Ooty, Tamil Nadu, India

7th - 12th March 2011



The bus to Mettupalayam was indescribably horrid, we had to fight to get on the overcrowded bus, I was fighting the women at the front and Djalma the men at the back, neither of us did particularly well. The idea that you should wait for people of the bus to get off, and thus have more space for yourself once on the bus, actively contradicted everyone's actions – there clearly was no rational thought except – eff you man I'm getting me a seat. Despite extensive training in the Moscow metro I found myself helpless in the throes of group aggression, it all left me feeling a bit sick and therefore my elbows were useless against the much hardened witches I was fighting against to get into the damn bus. Djalma got in before me, with all our bags no less, and I felt miserable at being there and miserable for having let him down. He was in a rage to make the group of ferocious Indians fighting for seats look like docile pussy cats and told one particularly annoying, pushy (and fat) man who was trying to push past him to get to a seat his wife had saved him, things about his mother that he had no way of knowing. This same annoying, fat pushy man, once in his seat broke into a glut of self satisfied smiles that he'd made it to a seat, meanwhile small children were getting crushed in the continued onslaught, grannies were getting trampled underfoot and women with babies were studiously ignored by anyone in a seat. One of these women with a crying baby on her hip caught the eye of my beloved who then shouted at the beaming fat idiot in his seat to be a man a give the woman his seat, he took the baby on his lap refusing to get up and made the small child cry even more. It was monstrous. The ticket inspector shouted out Djalma to get out of the stairs although where he was expected to stand I'd no idea, he then vented a hugely long tirade probably against stupid white tourists, which Djalma and I didn't understand and were the only two who didn't. A group of three ladies sat right under my nose started laughing uproariously at whatever was said and then had the nerve to try and make conversation and smile?! in the trip. The one sat in the middle was transfixed by the sight of my tongue piercing and wanted me to show her my tongue, I didn't of course, I just stood there looking down with evil glares thinking how ugly and horrible she was, I drank some water and she asked for some which gave me an excuse to lean over and tell her why I wasn't going to give her any water. By this time we'd all had a while to calm down but she had laughed the most at whatever the ticket collector had said and so I told her that she and her friends had been mean, that I didn't like her and at no time was she ever going to share my water. Bitch. I felt very unchristian. The bus ride lasted about an hour and at our stop I gratefully climbed off feeling subdued and tired, we trudged up and down the street near the bus station and found a cheap room for the night. After a much needed shower and some fresh clothes we had dinner, picked up some bananas for breakfast and walked to the train station where we would be catching the mini train from the following morning.

From Ooty, Tamil Nadu, India

We got up early and left at 7.10am for our 7.20am train. The miniature train was a lot bigger than I was expecting and without a toilet (although this didn't matter in the end). It took five hours for the 46km to Ooty and we shared our compartment with a friendly Canadian couple, it was an exceedingly long but beautiful trip and stops along the way were very welcome, not least because we had tea and something other than our bananas to eat.

From Ooty, Tamil Nadu, India

People that we met later commented on the fact that Ooty, short for Udhagamandalam,was a lot bigger and busier than they were expecting. And it was big for a quiet hill town but very colourful too, we walked up to the YWCA (The women's half of the YMCA – Young Man's Christian Association) and after an abnormally long wait due to the inefficiency of the receptionist we checked into a small fusty dorm room at the end of the hotel, it was especially creepy at night. Despite the long train ride neither of us were particularly smelly so we went out for lunch and a little look round the town where we picked up some water, biscuits and fruit for the following morning as well as a much needed towel (we'd been drip drying for a long time without a problem but it was significantly colder in the hills) and some suspicious smelling dandruff oil (I've yet to ascertain whether this helps or hinders the production of dandruff and at the moment I am sceptical). We walked back past the Rose Gardens, with a very promising sign 1km before the ticket office which was up a hill, only to find that all the roses had just been pruned and to see the stumps we would have to pay 20Rs, I was quite disappointed to say the least especially after a long walk uphill.

From Ooty, Tamil Nadu, India

Back at the hostel we picked out a couple of books from the fusty old library (just in case you were wondering the YWCA seemed fusty all over) and sat in the upstairs drawing room which had a lovely ambience full of natural light in the afternoon, spoiled only by the huge menacing portrait of Jesus hanging at an odd angle over the door. We went down stairs for a small bite to eat before bed and while we were tucking into thin, oily, milky soup with tiny bits of carrot and something green floating in it we started talking to Monique an American with an affinity for India but managed not to talk out of her arse as so many seasoned travellers do.
One of the qualities I respect the most in person is the ability to do different/exciting/dangerous/selfless things but not lose sight of the small and relatively inconsequential day to day things or talk down at you as if they were an enlightened ninety year sage having experienced these amazing things. It was so nice to talk to a women who was volunteering with children who'd been involved in the sex trade from a very young age but didn't shove it down your throat or behave as though everyone should do these things (which really we should), she was funny and clever and had a passion for travelling and life and was completely unpretentious and lovely. I admit, I am fan – I was one of many, she had accumulated a small group of young English traveller the man of the group having quite a sizeable crush on her and we met them later after we had finished dinner. We sat round talking until it was too cold for shorts and flip-flops and Djalma and I went to bed.

The next day we got out of the wrong side of bed and took our aggressive selves for a walk around a big lake close to town. We stopped off for a bad breakfast and were a bit mean to the overly attentive young waiter which we then felt bad about as we continued around the lake. After deliberation we rented out a row boat instead of a pedalo and vented our hostility on the water. I was much better at rowing than Djalma and surprised myself with the smooth co-ordination and minimal splashing that had always been lacking in previous rowing attempts. As I rowed us round the lake, my man lazing and sunning his midriff in the bow, I began to feel more and more at peace, it was a beautiful day, the sun was out and we were pootling around a pretty lake in the midst of some lovely greenery. It was about that point I realised that having lugged my camera this far had left the memory stick back in our room and was therefore unable to record the beauty of the moment.
We decided to use up our deposit and spend the next half an hour in the boat, this time with Djalma at the helm, zigzagging us all over the shop and splashing me with stagnant pond water – it put him in a good mood too.

We got off the lake, ate some boiled sweetcorn and took a look at the world's first thread garden which was so full of itself in proclaiming to visitors at the ingenuity, originality, skill and all-round fabulousness of the project it actually made up for the abysmally lit dusty display of the different plants and flowers. There were plenty of huge boards proclaiming the projects grandness but none to tell the visitor what the flowers and plants were, and it was all over in under a minute. We walked further round the lake (apparently it was 10km round the circumference) and rented out another row boat in a different section, I was a little too enthusiastic about the boats and didn't factor in my sore palms which would have blistered if Djalma hadn't taken over. Feeling much happier we walked back into town and had a thali in a small hole-in-the-wall joint before walking back to hostel to rest our aching bodies and sit and talk to Monique and the kids and drink tea until the cold moved us indoors.

During a dinner of mildly horrible vegetable curry I started to feel quite ill and after we said goodnight and went to bed I didn't climb in properly because a part of me knew that I would be back out again and hugging the toilet. I was right and soon enough I was in the bathroom emptying one end and then the other getting bloody cold (I forgot to pick up a jumper on the way to the bathroom). I came back to bed, Djalma of course was sleeping soundly, and so was the guy who was sharing the dorm room with us. I popped a couple of pills and waited for the rest to make itself known so I could get that out and go to bed, I only had to wait an hour before I was back in the bathroom chundering and spurting bum wee, feeling sorry for myself, cold and miserable. A couple more pills and a sip of water and I decided that that was probably enough and I could safely climb in my sleeping sack without the need to run for the toilet again. Morning came round and I regaled Djalma with the story of my antics during the night and he went and got us a private room so I could be ill in peace. I spent most of the day convalescing and reading numerous books to pass the time in between napping.

From Ooty, Tamil Nadu, India

The next day Djalma pestered me out of my sickbed and we got the bus up to the highest peak in the Nilgiri hills, it would have been an excellent view if not for the haze that covered Ooty but it was nice enough. We got back into the Jeep we took from the bus stop to the top and then the bus back into town where we had some really good fried tomato with parota (flaky pastry bread) before walking out to the Government Botanical Gardens to take in some more pruned rose gardens and flowers which were still attached. It was really peaceful and very beautiful although not as big as it claimed to be – on the sign by the front it said that it was one of the oldest and biggest Botanical Gardens in the world (the Indians do seem to be a bit too quick to use the suffix 'in the world' when comparing places and things to others). We walked back to our hotel and chilled out for the rest of the afternoon.

From Ooty, Tamil Nadu, India

We left the following morning, I didn't want to stay in the cold any longer and wanted to get back down to the beach despite not having done any kind of trekking which is what Ooty and anywhere in the hills for that matter is famous for, so we got on a morning bus to Kannur, which is on the Keralan coast facing the Arabian Sea, prepared to elbow our way to some seats.

Pondicherry, India

3rd - 6th March 2011



Arriving on our luxury bus at about 10.30 at night we lucked out at a big ashram by the sea and got a cheap room for the night. At the reception desk we also discovered that we had left our wallet and 2600Rs behind, a wonderful start to a new city. After filling in our details we headed up the stairs as quietly as possible, had a MUCH needed shower and went to sleep.

From Pondicherry, India

The next day we woke up nice and early to take a walk along the beach and get some breakfast. We were both rather excited by all the French cafés and the promise of good food, when you travel for long periods of time, food breaks like this are a culinary blessing and we fully intended to make the most of the cheap booze (Pondicherry is it's own state and has relaxed alcohol taxes) and the steak (rarer than hens teeth in Hindu India). We stopped at a small 24hr café by the sea and were impressed by the wonderful French service (it was awful) and French cuisine (the coffee was good although bitter and I was flatly refused any garlic on my toast... err NO GARLIC!? Wasn't it a FRENCH café?!), it didn't do much to lift the awful mood I'd woken up in, especially because the mouthwatering smell of frying garlic was wafting out from the kitchen, bastards.

The sun at 8.30 was already roasting so I wandered back to the hotel to work on photos and my diary while Djalma sorted out maps from the TIO (Tourist Information Office) and an appointment at a stomach specialist so we could get a professional opinion on our on/off diarrhoea for the past two months. We went to this “specialist” together and filled him in on our symptoms, basically that for the last two months – the whole time we'd been in India – we'd had “loose movements” with brief reprieves courtesy of Immodium and the occasional course of antibiotics. He felt our stomachs looked down our throats and told us it was perfectly normal – I could just imagine my Mum reaction at his casual dismissal of what he deemed travellers diarrhoea when it had persisted for so long. After insisting that the shits were not normal for such a long time he relented and prescribed an ultrasound and suggested that a stool sample be tested. We went to collect pots for poohing in and were given one container not much bigger than a thimble – I've no idea what kind of stomach problems they deal with on a day to day basis but poohing into a container no bigger than the end of your thumb is just not possible on a normal day let alone an explosive one – we tried to explain this to the man giving us the container with less and less patience and in the end decided to leave when they cleared out a container holding some powder and handed it to us (um, shouldn't it be sterile?!). We cancelled our ultrasound appointment and decided to make an appointment at a Western hospital but not before fully enjoying Pondicherry's culinary delights (with the help of some Loperamide should it prove necessary).

*Our Ashram deserves a special mention. It has very cheap, very clean rooms I believe all have en suite facilities and working showers – not something to be taken for granted in a country which more often than not lacks the infrastructure for clean drinking water, flushing toilets or more than a dribble for a shower when not using a bucket. It is also decorated with life improving advice and noble ideas, which reek of self-righteous piousness. My favourite slogan, which is on the way up the stairs to our room, reads 'Be nice to people who drink and smoke because they won't be around us for long' what a load of patronising bollocks. Above a rubbish bin: Throw away; negativity, over self-confidence, gluttony... blah blah blah.

From Pondicherry, India

Wandering back through town we passed by several French cafés and stopped in one to feast on the most delicious food, I had some Darjeeling tea and an enormous almond croissant while Djalma got his mouth around a real French baguette filled with cooked spinach, sweet fried onions, sautéed mushrooms and borsalino cheese, they were both mouthwateringly good (and heavy on the wallet). My mood much improved with the tea and sugar injection we carried on back to the ashram to wait out the heat of the afternoon.

Around 5pm we headed back out, walking along the reinforced seafront dotted with ice-cream, coconut, souvenir and snack vendors.

From Pondicherry, India

We passed by the monument to Gandhi, the French embassy and a huge cathedral that lit up in neon when the night drew in. We passed through lots of slightly French flavoured streets teeming with very Tamil traffic.

From Pondicherry, India

We finally arrived at a small rooftop café serving cocktails and food and my snapping frenzy hushed up after the first sip of my blue lemonade which wasn't as good as I was hoping it would be (an excellent reason to sample the rest of the cocktail menu). We sat outside providing the local mosquitoes a smorgasbord of not so fresh foreign flesh and drank and chatted. At some point after an excellent dinner of baby squid, chips and salad, Djalma went off to get a scooter for the following day while I ordered another cocktail and was joined by a French girl, Gail. She was travelling by herself and was very talkative so we sat and talked and drank (her, coke, me, planters punch) until Djalma came back and joined in, I was feeling very pleasantly tipsy although slightly conscious about the difficulty with which I was focussing. This didn't stop me helping Djalma polish off his mojito before ordering one last drink for the road. Mistake.

From Pondicherry, India

We got on the little moped and made it back to the Ashram just before the gates were locked, thank goodness, and slept like babies for an early start the next morning.

The early start never happened. But we did make it out after papaya lassies, omelettes and garlic toast for breakfast. The early morning traffic wasn't nearly as horrendous as the evening traffic and we left Pondy behind on the open road to Auroville which we managed to completely overshoot and then spend about quarter of an hour trying to locate the turn-off to.

From Pondicherry, India

After stopping for directions countless times (we later fund out our assumption that they must not want to be easily found was true) we pulled up at the visitors centre, which is quite separate from where Aurovillians live, and met Mari who we knew of through Djalma's best friend, Pri. We wandered through the exhibition looking at their multinational photos and reading about the small “city's” philosophy. Contrary to my preconceived idea of the place it wasn't a new religion, or at least it wasn't meant to be, but a social experiment designed to unite like-minded people (a crucial point because not just anyone can roll up and live there) in a city where continued education and a drive for knowledge of the divine come first, where people can live together in harmony regardless of age, race, creed and social standing. This is badly re-worded from the mission statement but you get the idea. After getting slips of paper she took us over to the heart of Auroville, Matrimandir, a huge golden globe set in the middle of what will be twelve different gardens. Normally tourists or visitors aren't allowed in, especially just to look, you are supposed to concentrate or meditate, but we went inside the huge silent dome to a big white room. This was the only place I've ever experienced deafening silence, it was quite something. People sat round the edges facing into the middle where a huge perfectly round glass ball directed light from a hole in the roof to another ball below. Everything was white, the immaculate carpet, the cushions we sat on, the pillars, the walls and the ceiling and everyone was silent, almost – you could hear everything and when Djalma scratched his hairy leg I could hear his nails move across every single hair and shifting slightly on the cushions sounded like I was shifting gravel, we left the people contemplating life and retraced our footsteps, past the equally silent women watching the path to the dome, to the gardens outside.

From Pondicherry, India

Leaving the golden Matrimandir behind, the opposite to the centre of every other city on Earth in that it is a centre of silence and contemplation as opposed to chaos and disorder, we went for lunch at the visitors centre. It was surprisingly expensive, for the same price as a good steak dinner anywhere else the money would buy you a mushroom tart, not cool. The food was good although it took almost an hour for people to take our order (they were understaffed) during the time we waited we had what I would like to say was a good long conversation but was more of a question and answer session about life in Auroville for Mari. We asked about what life was like there, how the money side worked, how did it work with all the visitors or tourists. I was quite surprised about some of her answers and when she spoke about her frustration with, typically westerners, who came along for an hour and wanted to dissect and understand the essence of the project at Auroville which she said was too complicated to grasp in this time (and rightly so) I felt more than a little embarrassed at recognising myself in this group, I also felt more than a passing resemblance between myself and some the other annoying traits other, usually Europeans, show. It made me uncomfortable aware of how I think and conduct myself around foreigners, all a bit too English.

From Pondicherry, India

After a decent lunch she left to go shopping and we decided to go for a bit of exploring in the social experiment city. We didn't get very far, we were refused entry to the gardens around Matrimandir, which we had been in only a few hours previously, denied even for a few moments to take a photo of the gardens, we jumped on the bike to go to the lookout point, for which we did have a piece of paper but we weren't allowed to park the bike there despite there being plenty of room, we decided to just leave it and head back to Pondy and stop off at a beach somewhere on the way.

We left the private little city behind and halfway back ran out of petrol, fortunately for us a lovely man on a bike took Djalma to buy a couple of quart bottles, previously housing brandy, of petrol and we were soon on our way to the beach. We stopped off at a small hotel/hangout area which was actually fenced off from the beach and Djalma went off to the beach, in a roundabout way, while I sat feeling a bit like an intruder at a table. We left after a short while, Djalma dropped me back at our hotel, my legs were quite tired having been supporting my body against the bumps and turns and minor frights from a day on the back of a scooter. We rested for a short while before the call of the elusive Indian steak called us out from our room, we strolled to a bamboo filled outdoor restaurant ordered some fish fingers to start, some beers and the reason for our trip to Pondicherry STEAK. We kicked back and enjoyed our surprisingly tender slice of cow with chips and sad looking boiled vegetables.

From Pondicherry, India

We made the most of our room the next day not checking out till the last minute before returning the wonderful French café called Bakers Street for a mind bendingly indulgent breakfast. We had a quiche, a divine chocolate brownie (almost as good as my Granny used to make), a chicken baguette, the usual French baguette filled with fresh lettuce and juicy chicken pieces covered in a rich, creamy, peppery sauce (a welcome change from mayo), an éclair, another chocolate brownie and a sweet lime creamy mousse with chocolate and crunchy bits of heaven at the bottom and on top. I washed mine down with a coffee and had to ask Djalma to take me away before we ordered more and I exploded in a mess of over juiced taste buds.

From Pondicherry, India

We headed to a small expensive café/artshop (whose signature piece was a pierced elephant graffiti artist) with free but irritatingly slow wi-fi to spend the afternoon passing time till our train was due to leave. The food was so expensive that I went back to get another chicken baguette for dinner, I just couldn't believe that a plain old chicken baguette could be that good. After getting to the train station an hour before our train was due to arrive I left Djalma under a cloud of mosquitoes to get some baby wipes and some anti-mosquito spray which worked like a dream.

Our train arrived and we got on, leaving some of the best food I'd had in a while behind. We arrived at some other station where we waited on the platform watching a cricket match on the TV by the food stand before heading into a non veg restaurant to snooze until our 1am train. The three hours flew by and before I knew it we were boarding the night train with our unconfirmed reservation tickets hoping that at least one person hadn't shown up and that we could take turns sleeping in that berth. The train conductor for our carriage, as for all carriage, was a loud, rude and useless turd who refused to help us shouting at us 'no chance, no chance' until we found the empty berths ourselves.

Early the next morning, I was woken up at around 5am but waited until 6.30am until I woke up Djalma who had slept in another carriage, we sat together in the newly emptied train and watched the green misty world whiz by, well I watched it out the window while Djalma curled up on the seat and slept with his head on my lap extremely annoyed that I had woken him up just so we could sit together.

We arrived at our station mid-morning, possibly Coimbatore although I can't quite remember, and got a bus to Mettupalayam from where the toy train leaves for Ooty in the Nilgiri hills.

Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

2nd - 3rd March 2011



The early morning train went through ethereally beautiful misty green country side, we changed somewhere and got another train to a town a few kilometres from Vailankanni. On that train ride we met an old couple who started chatting to Djalma and ended up inviting us for lunch, then to stay in their home and then to a relatives wedding that afternoon. It was the first true hospitality we'd been shown since arriving in India – people had been friendly but no-one had invited us back for food, something we'd become accustomed to in Iran.

From Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

We ended up going with them to their new home (their main house was in Trichy, a bigger town/city) where I had a quick shower and washed the dirt from my hair before we went to the wedding. They were insistent that we stayed with them but after along day of travelling all we wanted was a mattress underneath a ceiling fan, their new house lacked a bed let alone a mattress and there wasn't a fan to stir the air so we decided to find a room after the wedding.

From Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

We got the bus for the short distance from their house into the centre of town where the big church was and although we arrived after the 4pm start time we didn't miss the bride's entrance. She was decked out in a jewel encrusted and gold thread embroidered sari with a white veil dotted with colourful embroidered flowers and dripping with half her body weight in gold jewellery. The church slowly filled up with friends and relatives to watch the couple make their vows and listen to the professional singers (no-one else sang). It took just over an hour by which time Djalma and I were more than ready to leave – the service was in Tamil, not that we would have understood Hindi but we had no idea of what was being said and the audience wasn't exactly involved in the service (like most weddings I guess).

From Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

The best thing about the wedding was the women who attended, they were all clothed in their richest, most elaborately embellished, colourful saris and looked like exquisite human peacocks lined up on the left side of the church, the jasmine in their hair scenting the air around them. The men on the other hand looked drab and uninspired in white, grey and brown shirts and trousers, boooooring!

From Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

We went to the reception were we were greeted by a couple of women with a small bowl of sandalwood paste and some dark waxy red powder and a box of jasmine strings for the ladies. We got painted and the beaming mother of the bride wound some jasmine round my messy ponytail (at that point I was grateful that I had had time to wash my hair). The father of the bride moved us from our seats near the back and put us in prized front row seats where we had a great view of the bride and groom being filmed and having countless pictures taken.

From Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

We watched different groups of family join the couple of stage to have their photos taken, all in in true Indian style (strictly no smiling and hands neatly by the sides) before it was our turn, it was very exciting and we grinned like idiots while sweating under the hot video lights. There was a band playing, the guy on the keyboard making full use of the programmed synthesiser and some sound effects I remembered from my own keyboard that I had when I was a child (and was convinced that I would absolutely learn how to play properly) and some singers who belted our tunes that blasted from the huge speakers directly into our brains. After sitting in the big room watching the poor couple stand there in front of the lights, as group after group went in front of the camera, we were taken downstairs to a big dining hall filled with rows of tables, canteen style, covered with banana leaves dotted with pickle and raita. We sat down and were promptly served a massive lamb biryani, pork, gravy and other different dishes. It was the first meat I'd eaten since arriving in India (I did try a piece of Djalma's chicken dish ages ago but spat it back out because it was all fat so it didn't really count) and it was delicious. We both declined seconds (a proper thali is an all you can eat meal) me because I couldn't fit any more in and Djalma because he didn't want to be such a pig (a first), we also tried some Badam milk, a rich super thick orange liquid/paste which although is everywhere in India, we hadn't tried before.

From Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

We rolled outside for some fresh air where we sat and talked to Maria (it's a man's or a woman's here) while we waited for Janya (no idea how to spell her name). When it came to leaving we had a very long and tricky process of extricating ourselves from their hijack hospitality. They were both very sweet but very persistent that we do things their way, stay with them, meet them in Trichy and stay with them for three days etc... Even assuring them that we could find our own room was a mission, but funnily enough having managed on our own for the last two months in India we didn't have a problem and even got a semi-deluxe room for the price of a basic room, result!

So we slept on a mattress under a ceiling fan and got devoured by hungry mosquitoes while we recharged our batteries. The next morning we saw the other churches grouped around the main church, the roads lined with icons and lines from the bible adding to the full on churchy atmosphere, which was a more than a bit full on and a wee bit scary. There were lots of people who had given their hair as an offering, a very noble thing to do as it degrades the beauty of a person, they had their heads covered with sandalwood powder to reduce the itching and redness of the close shave from the 'hair removers' lining the street to the beach. The church also had a huge system for receiving offerings, it was possible to buy special blessed oil bottles, blessed water, blessed oil, saris, silver, flower garlands and coconuts amongst other things, it all seemed very commercialised and profit driven. The mix between Christianity and Hinduism was quite startling, on the one hand we felt like we were on familiar ground and on the other hand things were done so differently it was hard to connect it with the religion we knew.

From Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

We waited for two hours for Maria to come and meet us to take us back to their house which although was close we didn't know how to get to. In the meantime we walked along the town's beach and then sat and waited in the shade.

From Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

Back at their house we drank fresh coconut water and planted some banana roots. We got their address and ate the best thali I've tasted, all vegetarian. We had to say goodbye soon after that with promises to call, assurances that we would TRY and make it to Trichy to see them again and managed to confuse Maria with our internet address – he just didn't understand the concept of electronic mail via computer and not the usual mailing system, he looked dubiously at my email address and said 'but there are lots of Sarahs...'. It really drove home how differently people live. They were both pretty amazed that outside of India people don't generally use coconut oil in their hair, wear saris, have coconuts or curry...

From Vailankanni, Tamil Nadu, India

We caught the bus to a larger town with better transport links and from there got a bus to Tranquebar further up the coast. We arrived there and checked around for a cheap place to stay, there was a spiritual centre that had a hot room so we gave it a miss but the only other option turned out to be more than 1000Rs. We decided to move on up to Pondicherry a French flavoured town three to four hours away by bus.

Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India

1st March - 3rd March 2011



After discovering that there were no trains till the evening we decided to try our luck with the buses and part walked part donkey carted it to the bus stand a couple of kilometres outside of town to get a bus inland to Madurai and from there a train or bus to Tranquebar back on the coast. Things didn't really go to plan with no direct train to Tranquebar and very bad connections so we decided to stay overnight and leave early the next morning.

From Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India

Lunch was a priority so we had a (very good and cheap) thali before finding a cheap room on the 5th floor (again!). We rested for a while before heading down the road to see the city's main attraction – a huge temple complex.

From Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India

We borrowed some dhotis from an antique shop which we were then warned about by a guide in the temple grounds – he warned us against going upstairs for views of the temple and drinking some poisoned tea which would alter our heads (a tiny bit worrying but nothing bad happened Mum!).

There were several layers to go through and although there were some areas we weren't allowed in we saw a fair bit, the place was big, bright and in some spots, bustling. Some people sat quietly in front of shrines praying and meditating, others knelt and lay on the floor but most were walking around like us.

From Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India

The number of statues and carvings was incredible and everything was fresh, we estimated that every part of the temple was painted at least once a year, it all looked like it had just been covered in a new layer of paint. We stopped by the temple elephant whose forehead was decorated with very white precise patterns, she (or he) accepted 5Rs from a person then tapped him or her on the head with it's trunk and then handed the money to the overseer. We watched a few people doing it before deciding to give it a go, I couldn't wait for Djalma to go first, he was unusually slow to take up the chance of doing something new, so he got into position with the camera and I got my 5Rs ready and went to stand in front of this huge elephant suddenly feeling very small and fragile, the big trunk came towards me and I fumbled with the coin like there were teeth, actually it was just a bit wet, and then I got tapped on the head, my blessing. Apparently it cost more to get a photo because the elephant keeper deliberately stood between me and the camera blocking the view. We weren't too happy about that, although it was obviously a different way to make money it was quite special, there was something about being close to a powerful animal and in it's mercy – it could have squashed me like an old grape – that the man's selfish behaviour really spoiled the moment.

From Madurai, Tamil Nadu, India

We left the temple soon after that, retrieved our flip-flops and returned the dhotis before finding an internet café and reconnecting with home. We left bright and early the next morning on a 7am train for Vailankanni.

Rameswaram, Tamil Nadu, India

28th - 29th February 2011



After a joyful night on the train, without any sleep we arrived in Ramaswaram, the old Southernmost point of India, at around 4.45am. Walking down the station we were greeted with the now familiar but no less disgusting chorus of people hawking up and choking on their own spit, the sound track of the dying, wonderful. I had a cup of station tea, possibly the best thing in the world after any train ride and we walked the couple of kilometres into the centre of town – we figured we had plenty of time before things opened up. Feeling in a ridiculously good mood we eventually left the auto rickshaw drivers behind and walked in relative peace and quiet, the sky was a magical deep blue and few people were up and about.

We walked round the big Ramanathaswamy temple asking in nearly every hotel for a room before settling on one with a sea view for a sweet 400Rs (about $9US) easily the best deal in town. Feeling greasy and sweaty after a night on the train and an hour or so trawling for hotels we had quick showers and headed out for some local breakfast at a small but busy hole in the wall café After flaky chapattis and spicy rice we found a bike rental place and got ourselves some sweet Indian bicycles to cycle out to the end of the spit which almost reaches across to Sri Lanka.

From Rameswaram, Tamil Nadu, India

The road was flat and well paved, being back on a bike put me in an excellent mood and I rang my bell at everything we passed shouting hello and good morning and waving to the small children dressed for school. We cycled for about 10km until the road stopped and became soft sand through a tiny village whose sole income was from dried fish and extortionately priced Jeep rides to the end of the spit.

From Rameswaram, Tamil Nadu, India

We decided to leave our bikes there and share a Jeep with a Mumbai guy and his Mum, we drove for about 15-20 minutes and arrived at some ruined buildings and an old church made from coral blocks, it was pretty cool but Djalma and I wanted to see the end and having no idea how far it was we began walking along the beach to what we thought was the tip.

From Rameswaram, Tamil Nadu, India

The young obnoxious driver chased after us when we were a good way away from where we started out and motioned for us to come back because the waiting time was up, we went back only after he promised to take us out to the tip where we originally agreed to go.

From Rameswaram, Tamil Nadu, India

After a big hoo-haa and a long wait we left for the tip which was short drive away and utterly beautiful. There were lots of clouds which occasionally let through brilliant burst of sunlight making the sand whiter and the sea bluer, it wasn't very photogenic but it was gorgeous. After some mincing about in the sea and a quick video pointing out the way to Sri Lanka we loaded ourselves back into the Jeep and heading back to “civilisation”.

From Rameswaram, Tamil Nadu, India

Back at the little village we took ourselves off to speak to the policeman about the drivers behaviour – he had asked for money while we were on the beach and threatened to go back and take away our rented bicycles amongst other things so none of us were very happy. It turned out that the very uninterested policeman was only operating a checkpoint and that there wasn't any type of complaints procedure, because the guy was a real douche bag we persevered between several different languages (they only spoke Tamil, a little English but no Hindi and our Mumbai guy spoke English, Hindu and some other language from a different region) no-one making himself very clear. After lots of 'no problem, no problem' I got very angry (my turn after Djalma had to restrain himself from punching the arrogant little turd) and told him that we would not be paying him any money, instead we would go down to the police station, file a complaint and pay them the money. We left soon after that and cycled to a quiet spot by the sea to sit down in the shade while my temper cooled down and I had a good old rant. We quickly decided not to give the money to the police because he didn't deserve it (the others paid their money) and later decided to give his money to an Indian charity and send an email to the tourist police.

From Rameswaram, Tamil Nadu, India

The cycle ride back was longer, hotter and pelvic jarringly painful, thankfully neither our knees nor legs gave up on us and we reached the bike place and handed them back gratefully walking on our own two legs again. Utterly shattered we took the lift back up to our room and washed the paste of grit, sweat, sand and sun-cream off our sticky bodies before rolling on aching legs to a small snack shop for sustenance.

Unsurprisingly bed time was extremely early as was our check out time form the hotel, by 7am we were packed and gone on our way to the train station to try and get up to the Cauvery Delta.

Cape Comorin, Kanyakumari, India

26th - 27th February 2011



After six hours, four buses and a very heated argument with the auto rickshaw driver, we arrived at the Southernmost tip of India, Cape Comorin in the town Kanyakumari. We hauled our backpacks around a small strip full of hotels working separately to find a vacancy, our cheapy room was up five flights of stairs and at the end of a very long search. After much needed showers we headed out to the seafront to see the massive crowd drawer that is the point where the three seas (Bay of Bengal, Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean) meet.

From Cape Comorin, Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu, India

It was almost impossible, well it was impossible to see any real difference from sea level but I guess the colour did change further out to sea... The rocky beach front was lined with small stalls selling a huge range of sea shell curtains, lampshades and plenty of unadorned shells too – having dived and seen them in the sea where they should be it wasn't all that nice to see so many beautiful things out of their rightful home.

From Cape Comorin, Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu, India

We joined the throngs of holidaying Indians, got some steamed peanuts and hot beans and walked further along the coastline to a point near a rather ugly viewing tower which looked a lot like a car park without any space for cars. We sat and watched the sun set behind some clouds waiting for the sky to go dark before leaving our concrete seat in search of some dinner – curried aubergine and chapatti.

From Cape Comorin, Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu, India

We set the alarm for 6am the next morning, woke to see more clouds obscuring the sun rise and promptly went back to sleep until 8.30. We spent the morning wandering around the small bustling town taking pictures, trying to get in a temple – DENIED! - and feeling hot. I went back to the hotel room to cool down while Djalma trekked over to the train station to book our tickets onto the next town. We spent the afternoon reading and sleeping in our room before heading out for lunch and then back for more snoozing. You may have noticed that I am a hotel hermit between the hours of 10am and 4pm when it is just too hot to be wandering around towns looking at stuff that we can quite easily see at cooler times of the day. We went down to a sunrise viewing area to see the temple and a big statue of some writer before leaving the wee smell behind and heading further down the coast to find somewhere quieter and less fragrant, we stopped by the huge pink memorial to Gandhi on the way. Classy.

From Cape Comorin, Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu, India

The sun set behind more clouds so we didn't see it slip below the horizon line but we sat for two hours on the sandy part just behind the protective rock wall that lined the shore. The sea was rough, but that didn't stop one middle aged guy from clambering down the rocks to try and fill his bottle with the sea water when the waves came up, despite staying away from the spray most of the time he actually managed a third of a litre getting a good drenching, it was excellent seaside comedy.

From Cape Comorin, Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu, India

After dinner which was not prawn Malaberi much to my disgust – Tamils are mostly pure vegetarian and despite bordering three seas the town did not have that much fresh fish on offer and no prawns that I could find - we got our bags from the hotel and walked slowly in the direction of the train station for our overnight ride to Ramaswaram the old Southern tip of India.

Varkala, Kerala, India

16th - 26th February 2011



From 7.45 to 13.30 I sat on the bus from Mysore to Calicut feeling happier with every passing mile until it got to midday and we were still coming down round hairpin bends. A short crackling call from Djalma from Mumbai assured me that they were running late too and so I arrived well before them and spent a good ninety minutes trudging round the street with my backpack looking for a hotel with vacancies, fun. I found a relatively well priced option while sitting at the train station waiting for their bus to arrive, after another ninety minutes of sitting and waiting anxiously scanning the interior of every bus I went down to the hotel to check in and drop off my bag. On the way back I got a call from Djalma and Danila who had arrived at the station and were waiting for me – excellent timing Sarah!

From Varkala, Kerala, India

We ran into each other arms Sound of Music style except hotter, sweatier and dirtier than Julie Andrews could ever be and went back to the hotel to sort out the rooms. We went straight down to the city beach to find a decent restaurant and chill out on the beach. It was beautiful and deserted where we got onto the beach but walking up to the busy section we passed more than a few fresh intestines washed up on the shore – they were huge and looked like enormous jellyfish until you identified the large and small intestines, mmm. Dinner was nondescript and we headed back to the hotel after deciding to head further South the next day.

We spent a good eight hours the next day on the train heading south to Aleppey, we decided to stay on the train until Varkala part of which is on the cliffs overlooking the Arabian Sea, the town is about 5km further inland. We got a tuk-tuk to the coast and sweated our way round the dirt paths winding between the masses of coconut palms trying to find an affordable hotel with spare rooms. After a recommendation from an American who'd been chilling out in Varkala since October 2010 we ended up in Hiwa Residency Hotel a five minute walk from the cliffs. We got 750Rs rooms for 400Rs, unloaded our bags marvelling at the big clean rooms which were easily the nicest we'd stayed in while in India and headed out for some much needed dinner.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

Lining the cliff edge were a mass of small shops and two tiered fish restaurant most of which with a distinctly Tibetan feel, we stopped in Little Tibet and tucked into some decent grub Danila ordering the first of his many fruit juices.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

After a spot of yoga in our room, a dip in the sea and breakfast, we spent the next day chilling out outside our hotel rooms. In the afternoon we wandered down to the beach, wandered down as in climbed down. The cliffs were stunningly beautiful coloured a deep sun baked orange red topped with palms trees moving in the sea breeze. The beach was full of families, couples and groups of friends but not packed. We walked up and down by the waters edge enjoying the view and the relaxed beachy atmosphere, it truly felt like the beginning of our first real holiday since starting our trip on the 2nd of June 2010.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

We resolved to have some fresh fish and prawns that night and we stopped by a different restaurant, Blue Moon Café and ordered a big red Snapper and a plate of the biggest Jumbo prawns I had ever seen with garlic, butter and lemon sauce with chips, rice and salad. It took a good hour to find it's way to our table, but when it arrived it was easily worth the wait, we tucked in and demolished the succulent seafood like ravenous food-crazed maniacs congratulating ourselves on such an excellent choice. We waddled our stuffed bodies back to the hotel to lay down and sleep, preparing ourselves for the orgy of food to follow the next day.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

After an invigorating dip in the sea trying to catch crocodiles and an unsuccessful and sandy attempt at yoga on the beach we had fruit smoothies, omelettes and pancakes for breakfast with lots of garlic toast (my new favourite breakfast item) we did some more chilling out. We tried to find the fish market (and failed) before heading back for lunch which was a biggie – like all our meals were. After allowing for some digestion time we headed again out late in the afternoon to walk further down the coast to try and find a beach to ourselves.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

The afternoon was warm and beautiful (like all afternoons) and we followed the coast leaving the cliffs behind and drifted over black sandy beaches, golden beaches and mixes of the two. We walked through and past groves of coconut palms all rustling in the breeze providing a beautiful tropical backdrop to the warm blue green sea.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

We eventually found a near deserted beach, a quiet old man and hawks hardly count, so we dumped our stuff in the rocks and headed into the surf.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

I tried to catch some crocodiles with the boys but I'm really not that good at catching waves and ended up on the bottom my face inches from the crunchy coarse sand being mercilessly hauled along by the powerful drag.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

I got out after that, I wasn't quite ready for such a thorough facial ex foliation and left the sand burns , wrenched shoulders and grazed knees to those hardier than I. I sat taking pictures of them riding the waves in, missing plenty of wonderful photo opportunities (so I was told) when I got distracted by fishermen,

From Varkala, Kerala, India

circling hawks,

From Varkala, Kerala, India

fishing egrets

From Varkala, Kerala, India

and the palm trees behind me.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

The place was magical and eventually they dragged themselves out of the water and joined me to watch the sun set. We walked back the way we had come, the sky going dark so quickly that we were soon stumbling back in the dark, neither Danila nor I had particularly good night vision and we stubbed our toes and tripped up more than a few times.

We stopped at another restaurant to have dinner, we selected another bigger snapper and a few King Prawns to have with garlic butter sauce and chips and salad. After another looooong wait – all the restaurants were similar in terms of wait time, slow service and great food we tucked into another incredible dinner eating far too much and having to waddle our increasing bulks back to the hotel to flop out on the bed.
The next day was Danila's last full day so we decided to hire a taxi for the afternoon and go to a different beach 66km further south in the city of Kovalam.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

We went to the Lighthouse Beach first, so named because of the Lighthouse jutting out at the end of the beach, the atmosphere was a lot different there to our beach in Varkala which was heavily populated by backpackers rather than package holidaymakers. The beach front was heavily developed with lots of colourful hotels and small shops selling the same Indian clothes (that only foreigners wear) as in all traveller orientated areas. The water was clear and the sand was clean so we rented out a couple of deck chairs, an umbrella and a couple of body boards for a couple of hours.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

I sat and kept an eye on our belongings while Danila and Djalma enjoyed the sea, having first taken a dip so I could sit in wet clothes – much cooler than dry. I sat and watched the masses mill by old leathery skins hanging off bodies which had seen firmer days and the odd lithe tanned (but not tanned enough) woman sunning herself underneath the admiring gazes and dripping salivating mouths of lustful local men. Cliffs aside the main difference between that beach and the one in Varkala was that the lifeguards kept the Indians and the tourists separate, any time an Indian wandered too close, whether in the sea or on the sand, to the “white” area they blew their whistles and motioned them over to the black side – and there I was naively thinking that open segregation had ended. I didn't actively notice this until Djalma commented on it when we walked to the end of the beach to get the next one and noticed distinctly more brown skin than white. The nasty taste in my mouth aside it was nice to see another beach – it made me appreciate the one we were close to more. We got back in the taxi for the hour and a half ride back to Varkala.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

Danila went down to the beach while Djalma and I headed out to find the elephants which were supposed to be in the big parade finishing after three solid days of music and singing at the local temple near our hotel. It wasn't difficult to track down the music and the people, both were quite loud.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

We watched inside the temple as a big float was hefted on the shoulders of men around the temple followed by rapidly congregating parts of the “circus”, there were men painted as gods and goddesses in Hindu mythology who stood around and posed for photographs before dancing into the temple area and around the temple several times followed by; running/dancing men hauling big colourful one man floats atop their heads, a white and orange clad marching drum band, red, painted whirling thingamajigs, groups of dancing men, a straw sheep and finally two big chained elephants (no metal hooks in sight). We waited until it was clear they were only going to circle the temple repeatedly and went on our way to find Danila (and try a couple of the fried festival snacks on the way).

From Varkala, Kerala, India

We eventually found each other and went to a restaurant further away from the hustle and bustle looking out over the water which was twinkling with the bobbing lights of the night fishing boats on the horizon. We ordered and ate the best food I have ever tasted, Danila got a big fresh bright red Grouper with a side order of garlic butter grilled King Prawns, Djalma a mountain of delicately spiced fish biryani and I got my mouth around a truly delectable fish Malaberi with garlic naan bread. We were in heaven, the food was the best we'd eaten since arriving and it had all been good, we sat and enjoyed the evening breeze on the open second floor while I repeatedly exclaimed how good the food was, enjoying our last evening meal together. We walked back along the front stopping occasionally to admire the view and have a look in the little shops. After a little rush to get back before an unfortunate incident of public defecation we found ourselves back at the hotel and relaxing with our engorged stomachs unashamedly sticking out like only food babies can.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

The next morning we went down to the beach for Danila's last look at the sea before heading back for a breakfast feast of fresh fruit salad and juices with banana pakora with Nutella and ice-cream. We waved Danila off from the hotel and then kicked back until our lift came to take us to a photo shoot at a 4* hotel about 10km away. The manager was friends with the boys running the hotel and the boys asked us if we would like to be put up and fed for free while they took pictures for an upcoming brochure, ummm... yes please!

From 4* in Paravur, Kerala, India

So that afternoon we had lunch at the hotel – a fancy thali with fresh juice, had our pictures taken in the games room playing chess and in the honeymoon cottage on the lake front. It felt a bit weird surrounded by several men shouting orders at each other and then insisting on a romantic atmosphere while we bobbed amongst the candles and the rose petals in the little pool kissing each other. We finished up for the munching on some unappetising white vegetable sandwiches and drinking water before heading back to the restaurant for some more fancy thali which wasn't quite as good or as hot as lunch. We decided to stay the night because they wanted to take some more pictures the following morning.

From 4* in Paravur, Kerala, India

Our wake-up call was at 6am to be ready for 6.30am sharp, so we started at 7... ish. We lounged around draped uncomfortably over the prow of the hotels tour boat before heading back to the honeymoon bungalow to be photographed standing outside in the morning sun drinking coffee and bouncing around on the flower strewn bed. Two and a half hours later we were allowed to finish and get some much needed but uninspiring breakfast.

We enjoyed the use of their computer and free wifi before being dropped off back at our hotel in a taxi at around midday. We spent the rest of the day relaxing but feeling a bit grim – there's nothing like a loose bowel movement to darken your day.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

The next few days we spent in various states of relaxation – relaxing by the beach late afternoon/evening, chilling and relaxing in the sea facing restaurants, reclining in bed and watching films, snoozing and going for little walks. We did walk for about an hour up the coast further than the beach we found with Danila and we had a quick dip in the sea. The beach was a long stretch of black and golden sand with lots of colourful fishing boats drawn up to rest while the fishermen sat and mended nets.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

We got to a quiet point and left our things by some rocks and jumped in the warm sea to catch some crocodiles, I managed to wrench my neck trying and failing to duck under a big wave in time so I sat out after five minutes in the water. We walked back along the sea soon after sunset for cocktails (a strawberry margarita and mango daiquiri) and a light fish dinner of ginger and lemon grilled red snapper, chips and salad which we beefed up with extra salad and lots of cheese and garlic bread. Groan.

From Varkala, Kerala, India

After another day of pure relaxing, man I love beach holidays, we decided to plan the next part of our travels and move on the following morning.

After a breakfast of puttu (the Keralan special breakfast of wheat, fresh coconut, mashed banana, honey and milk) and omelette with garlic toast we packed up our things, checked out of our lovely hotel room and got several buses down to the Southern most point of India – Cape Comorin!