CONVERSATIONS WITH INDIA

I am going through a drought. A drought that is of interesting travellers! Since I left the Aussie boys, and apart from one day with an Irish girl I have met people of little interest to me. All there seems to be is couples who after months of traveling together cannot bear the sight of each other and would rather read ever inch of the Lonely Planet than partake in conversation with each other: The spiritual travellers who are trying so hard to be different they all end up looking the same and finally the older package groups who swarm round in clans. Instead I have found myself spending my time with the locals. The first of my interactions came at the lake in Udiapur with a young girl who's name I could not pronounce, who was doing the daily wash with her mother. It was probably not the best of conversations as she could not speak any English and me no Hindi. She also was very keen on taking my bracelets and my Ray Bands in exchange for a tatty piece of gum. So in fact if I think about it she was trying to fleece me! My next encounter was with the travel agent know as Mr A. I am normally very suspicious of agents but Mr A was quite different altogether. A short plump little man with a starched collar and prim and proper tie, Mr A as well as travel agent also seems to be an Agony Aunt (Or should I say Uncle) to the travellers of Udiapur. He will answer any questions: How do I get there? Which is the best place to eat? What is cheaper? And what shade do you think suits me best? I spent the evening hanging in his shop along with other travellers searching for words of wisdom and found that my faith was restored in the India people, especially the men, after meeting him. I told him that he was a very good man. To which he replied
"Yes madam. I think about it alot and yes I am very good man, I am the best man!" Well yes a good man but probably not the most modest.
The next day I proceeded to Jodphur on the bus booked by Mr A. For an Indian bus it was a quite high standard (That means it did not look like is was about to fall apart any second!) On that trip I met an old man who use to be a maths teacher. Unlike the last old man on my bus trip he did not try and sit on me. He decided he would teach me some Hindi instead. After a short but intense lesson I now know how to say "What is your name?" Which I use on the locals before they get a chance to use it on me, which proper throws them, and then I learnt to say can I have one Chai (Indian tea) without sugar, as the chai comes with enough of the stuff to rot your teeth. Actually I'm surprised Indian have any teeth at all as they put shit loads of sugar on everything and I can't stand it.
Armed with my Hindi and my new faith in India I arrived in Jodphur and attacked it with a new found confidence. The hassles, the stares, the constant battles to get anything done did not bother me anymore. I stayed in the heart of the old city (or blue city as it's called because it's painted blue!) where there are little tourists (Brilliant!) I went to the night market with the mission to get Deb's a bed spread and me, some of the amazing fabrics that India, especially Rajasthan has to offer. It was there that I met two brothers who owned a fabric shop. I became their very demanding but good customer and I spent most of the afternoon hanging out in their shop drinking chai, showing them the new wonders of the I-Phone, talking Bollywood and Harry Potter. I even got to meet the family which was a lot of them, a bloody lot of them!. I do believe that was my favourite day in India so far.
It's funny how one's faith can fade so fast though. All it takes is 24 hours of the shits and vomiting for you to become another person. I caught the night train to Jaisalmer and during that trip something in my body went very wrong. I spent most of my time running back and two to the toilet which is not that easy when your on the top berth in a carriage of pervy Indian men. When I did arrive at my destination I was met of with a swarm of men shouting
"You come with me madam!"
"My hotel is best madam."
"Cheap hotel madam."
"What is your name madam."
In my bad way I'm afraid to say Kevin was unleashed:
"Will you just piss off!" I screamed
After having my usually 5 minutes cool down, I went with one of them to a clean little guesthouse, where I have spent the last day vomiting and with the shits, only once leaving on a horrible trip to the chemist with the owners young son as carer. Its not very pleasant being sick in the street in front of the locals but don't feel too guilty as it will go very nicely with the smell of urine and cow shit that is everywhere.
Today I have managed the walk to the fort which is very beautiful but touristy, with people trying to sell you anything, to which my response is a bit like a Rottweiler on heat, especially to the men. I think I might head butt one of them soon. Oh well maybe my faith will return when my strength does or I'll be in jail for assault instead.

OBSERVATIONS
* I saw my first case of bride burning the other day. Down at the lake in Udiapur a woman was washing and I saw her skin was as white as mine but she was terribly disfigured. Bride burning happens when a daughter in law does not meet expectations:IE does not produce a son, so she is burnt and often outcast from the home. For every one case reported in India another 250 go unreported. Most women will say it was a cooking accident. I felt sad seeing this woman, and then angry for her hopeless situation.

* Indian men are very vain, especially the young. There always looking in the mirror and combing their gel caked hair. Their fashion is very dodgy as well: Lots of low buttoned shirts with chest hair and jeans so tight that I'm surprised India has such a high birth rate!

* After the Mumbai attacks everyone keeps asking what it's like here. Well I will tell you: Nothing! Its like it never happened, life goes on as normal. The media as always hypes the public into the belief that everywhere is unsafe these days. My view on the matter: you could get run over by a bus tomorrow. The only way you will ever be safe is stay in a box and I don't want to be in a box. Life is meant to lived.

YES MADAM!

I do believe it must be against the law or something to have a good nights sleep in India. I don't think I have a undisturbed night since I have been here! There is always some noise or another: your neighbours having loud sex, someone coughing up their insides or nosiy crap ringtones. I thought at least in Puskar I would get a good nights kip, it being the quietest place on my trip. Oh, but no! At five on the dot the music speakers come on full whack playing some Indian song that is sung by a woman who sounds like she is being impaled! This goes on for a least an hour on repeat and then they play another god awful song on repeat for another hour. Then the other night I was woken at about 2am to the sound of a dog yelpng in the yard below me, so I swing open my doors and go and look down off my balcony to find about five of the guesthouse boys whacking their dog with a stick!
"Hello" I shout "Do you think you could stop doing that!"
They all stop what their doing and look up at me with beaming smiles.
"Yes madam! Don't worry we don't kill it we just teach lesson." says the ringleader
"Well I think it is very cruel! Whats it done!"
"Yes madam. It kill duvet and my 950 ruppes jeans. Very expensive madam."
Its then I notice the left overs of a duvet and jeans scattered across the yard.
"Oh!" I say "Well can't you get it a muzzle."
"Yes madam. What is muzzle Madam."
Oh god! why did I start this coversation.
"It's a strap that you put round a dogs noise to stop it biting."
"Yes madam. We have."
Wait a second!
"Why did you ask me what a muzzle was if you already have one."
"Yes madam."
"You don't have one do you."
"Yes madam."
Then it clicks. I look down at these smiling faces and realise the whole time they have been getting a great view up my vest top, even the dog has stopped yelping and is sat looking, tounge out and panting. Oh my god! They are looking at my tits! I quickly fold my arms and run inside shouting, "Just tie it up then!"
The next morning as I check out the ring leader smiles and says he is sorry that I am leaving as he will miss my pretty face. Yeah mate! Its not my face your going to miss, I think! Its a good job I left as I do believe they would be quacking the poor dog with sticks every night, just so the English lady will come out and dangle her breasts for them again!
The Indians are very curious people, especially the men. It can get very tiring at times. I was sat round the lake in Puskar the other day doing some sketching when to young boys approached.
"Hello madam. Where are you from."
They always start a conversaton like this!
"England."
"What is your name."
"Carly."
"Carly. Like goddess."
Yes, like Goddess."
What is your job Madam."
"Teacher." I know this is a lie but being a teacher gets you huge respect over here.
"What do you earn."
"$300 a year." Another lie but I don't want them thinking I'm rich as they might start asking me to buy stuff.
"Are you married."
"No!"
"Oh! I am very sorry because you should be married at your age."
This is so the wrong thing to say to me.
"Well actually I am very glad I am not married and I have my freedom and I probably will never get married!" I rant. So begins the ravings of a mad woman. I start to lecture them on how I love being a western woman and having the same rights as men, that we all not sinners in the west, that just because I have blonde hair does mean you can feel my arse, that women are not a lesser human being, and that women are much more intelligent then men. They sit there a bit shell shocked and lost for words and then just leave. Note to ones self: Must do more feminist ranting when wanting to get rid of unwanted attention.
I am now in Udiapur which is where the James Bond movie "Octopussy" was filmed. Love Bond! I am going on a whole days horse tracking tomorrow which I'm very excited about. Don't worry I'm much better on a horse than on a moped. Apart from that time I fell off one eyed Spruce( actually only did have one eye!) I have never been to hospital.

OBSERVATIONS
* Old Indian people put henna in their hair, which makes it look like the worst sun in job you have ever seen in your life.

* The cities in India are so polluted that when you blow your noise your snot comes out black.

* I have realised that the most used hotels in India are the railway station platforms, and why not? They have all the facilities you could need: a bed (The bench), 24 hour room service (Street cleaner and food cart sellers) and showers (Actually the drinking water tap, but the locals use it as a shower and strip down to their underwear on the platform and get out the soap."

* Indians do not know how to say no!

RELIGION RULES

Did you know that Carly (Me!), is actually a goddess in India (you spell it Kali but it's pronounced the same). I would like to say that she is good and beautiful but if the truth is told she has eyes red with intoxication and in absolute rage (A Kevin), her hair is shown disheveled (Often the case with me!) , small fangs sometimes protrude out of her mouth (Before I had a brace) and her tongue is lolling (happens when drunk sometimes). She is often shown naked or just wearing a skirt made of human arms and a garland of human heads (Would wear if found in Topshop). So really she sums me up quite well. Religion rules life hear in India and I now I find myself in one of its its holy places, Puskar in Rajasthan. Its a chilled little town surrounding a lake which the Hindu's come to bathe in and worship. It all sounds so lovely and nice doesn't it apart from the lake is probably toxic with pollution and you would not get me to wash in it if you paid me a million quid as your skin would most likely melt off. The surrounding ghats are also covered in cow shit from the hundreds of free roaming terrors. There is also a lot of bird shit. To walk around the Ghats you have to take your shoes off so you spend your time not looking at the beautiful view of the lake but looking down at the ground to check you are not walking in shit. My feet as I type are encrusted with bird shit and god knows what (Nice!) All that said I really like Puskar. Its quiet and chilled after Delhi and Jaipur, which were full on. I have got myself a nice little room with a balcony and a view over the town to die for, so I will look at the lake from there (Nicer on the feet). I intend to be a lady of leisure here and sit and drink tea and sketch from balcony.
As said I have just come from Jaipur which was great fun as I met three Aussie guys (Ed, Nathan and Alex) on the bus on the way there. I love the Aussies their just chilled and so much fun. I was grateful for them on the bus as, it was a long journey and some old man tried to sit himself on my lap in a very un Grandad kind of way until Nathan pulled him off. Me and Alex have gone on to Puskar as the others have gone Tiger spotting somewhere or another. Have nothing more to say. Well I do but I feel a little tired so can't be arsed to write anymore. I'm not even go to observations!

SOME TIMES IT HARD TO BE A WOMAN....

Indian is not the easiest of countries to travel at the best of times, so being a single, white, blonde woman makes it ten times worse. Its the constant staring which is the most annoying thing and then there is the accidental brushing past which usually happens to be located in the breast or arse area. I just slap their hands now and shout "Your a very bad man!", really loud which embrassess them in front of everyone. I thought about dying my hair dark but remembered the last time I tried and it went green at the roots and there was also that time I literally dyed it red for the red ball at uni (I know how original) and it wouldn't wash out, just went pink, so I thought better about that idea. Instead I decided to buy myself a Salwar Kameez, which is the traditional dress like tunic and trouser combo with the dupatta (long scarfe). Yes I do look like a complete idiot and like one of those "I'm going to become just like the natives" type people, who I hate, but I really don't care as the percentage of "brushing" has reached zero when I wear it. Also they are actually really cool and comfortable and I have decided to make the tunic into a mini dress when I get home and will make the neck line lower too. So it will be a Slag Salwar Kameez. Brilliant!
Went to see the Taj Mahal today. I always worry when you go and see something you have wanted to see for a long time and its a real dissapointment (The Statue of Liberty was tiny and crap)! It was not so this time. It is more beautiful in reality than the pictures you see. It has a another worldly quality about it, something so perfect that it does not look real. Of course there were shit loads of tourists there doing the thing that they do best: taking photos of everything and anything. I joined in my striking my Princess Di pose in front of the Taj and let Faye and Eddie (a nice English couple I have been hanging around with) take the picture, much to to the amusement of the Indians who looked a bit bemused by it. Well a least it was a change from them perving at me.
I'm moving on to Jaipur tomorrow and into the state of Rajasthan which is full of history, so you can imagine how excited I am. I think I have to miss out Varanasi as I do not have enough time, which is a bit gutting. Never mind. Next time.

OBSERVATIONS

* I do not seem to have had, one decent nights sleep since I've been in Indian due to the fact there is always seems to be someone next door to me, yaking up something like there dying and some dogs barking and mauling each other to death outside.

* All the men keep asking me if I'm married, so I have started to tell them I'm engaged to get them off my backs. Then they ask when the wedding is. Jan better get working hard as I have told them its after christmas.

* Its official I have had a curse put on me, by Indians version of the lady boy (the Hijaras). They are eunchs that are believed to bring good luck. They go round asking for money for it. If you do not give them any, they curse you, as I found out when I refused to give them 10 ruppes so they pinched my cheek and cursed me. To which my response was "Am I bothered!" I am a little bit though as last time we were in India Becky B cursed the gods and got a noise and eye infection in return.

* I seem to have mice following me every where as one decided to invite itself into my room last night. I went to get the guesthouse owner who had a "I can't be arsed!" search while eating a samosa, then said "No mouse!" and just left. So I thought guess thats, that then! Off to bed.

HOLY COW!

Holy cow is exactly what I thought today when it actually occurred to me that I am walking round the most mental, busiest streets in Deli, completely on my own and on the other side of the world, without a soul I know within a good couple of thousand miles from me. What the hell am I doing! You see I scare myself sometimes, not just my family! I have calmed myself now. I Think I had a bit of cabin fever from the bloody 27 hour train journey I did from Goa. It was not too bad I did have a sleeper seat and it had food and air con. I also had a family opposite me with a matriarchal father who was conducting business on his phone the whole journey. It would have not been to bad if ring tone was not Brian Adams and the "Summer of 69", going off every 2 seconds. He also snored like a pig! I did start to get a dodgy stomach half way through the journey, which was not too bad until someone threw up in the western toilet and so had to use the crouching one instead which are never good for me with my giraffe legs.
When it came to getting off the train I was completely petrified! I was not quite sure where I was and being the only westerner around I got mobbed by everyone. The fear was short lived though as it only takes a taxi driver trying to rip me off, to get the girl going again and Kevin unleashed. Yes I'm back in business. In fact I feel more at home roaming around the streets of Deli than I ever did in Arambol. Stuart said before I left that he did not think it was my scene and he was right. I never feel comfortable on my own in these ideal western Hippie communities, there is always a feeling of wanting to belong but for me always feeling on the outside. I am happy to get lost among the crowds, lay no roots and be a nomad. That's just the way I am.
I am off to Agra tomorrow to see the Taj Mahal, something I have wanted to do for so long and it is also my first cross off on my, "places to see before you die" list (I know I'm sad!) Can't wait.

OBSERVATIONS

* most travelers dress so bad. I too am one. I would never wear what I am wearing now at home ie. those Ali Baba style pants that look like you have shat yourself (well not in public).

* The cows in Deli have the most ugly arse holes

* Most Indian men snore really loud. Before you start I am not sleeping around I was in the train sleeper carriage, remember?

* I am very brave as the whole time I have been writing this blog there has been a mouse running around my feet!

* Nobody ever play Brian Adams the "Summer of 69" around me again as I can be held responsible for my actions.

GOAN STAY!

First things first, a quick catch up with lady Warrington, over the last 6 months:
Got back from traveling, did not write blog as promised, worked loads, got very tired, got drunk a few times, brought some clothes, watched crap telly, finished job, went to Goa for a week with my sister, decided not to get on flight back, and wham bam, we are up to date which is me sat on a guest house balcony in Arombol north Goa writing you this blog. The reasons for staying are quite simple really: the sun, the sea, the sand, the food, the cheapness and because life is too bloody short! Anyway didn't fancy coming back to rain, no job and the thought of having to watch Loose Women up till Xmas is enough to put anyone off. Everyone who knows me well knows what a history geek I am and it has been my dream for some time now to go and see the north of India with its many palaces, the Taj Mahal, and Varanasi, (Also some are on the list of my BBC book “100 places to see before you die” and as I'm 30 next year I really need to get a move on!) As no one wanted to do it with me I thought I would do it on my own, which is good as I have always thought I was bloody good company!
As said I am now in Arambol, hanging out with Paula's friend Stuart, who is staying out here. Arambol is a cool place with a chilled atmosphere and an strange mix with ropey old hippies, happy clappers and the gap year students, mixed in with the locals. Not quite sure what category I fit into, for I have always liked the idea for of being a hippy, but I'm far to cynical and I'm definitely no gap year student anymore. I guess I'm in my own category which is, a Lady that travels (I like the sound of that!)
Off to Deli on the the sleeper train (For 25 hours!) on Wednesday, which is when I will become a single traveler. A bit nervous, but its good to be and I have now become use to the stares which follow you everywhere, besides it will be an adventure and every time I have bad moment I will just think of day time TV and I will be glad I am here.

Apology

I would like to apologize for any offense I caused in my last entry on my comments about air cabin crew. My sister is air cabin herself and I know how hard they work. Still think you all have false smiles though!

Observations

I think I have become the “Haggling Queen” taking my title from my former mentor Miss Rebbecca Brown!

I have never seen a fat nippy.

Now that I'm not hanging around with my sister and the air cabin anymore, my consumption of Alcohol is almost zero and my liver is functioning again.

I have to stop thinking I'm a good singer when I am drunk. Did Karaoke again! Did “Big Spender” again! Sang it with the pilot Captain Bob aka Mr T.

COME FLY WITH ME!

I hate flying. I have always said it was the landing and the take off that caused me the pains, but I have come to realise that its actually the whole experience. I use to like airports as a kid. They were the highlight of my holiday (I was a strange child!) I was fascinated by people from all different walks of life jetting off to all these glamorous places in the world, while I was left with the destination of Alicante (Not so glamorous!) I use to imagine what they did and where they were going. I still do. Even my mother gave us the sense of a flight being an special occasion by buying us all special travelling outfits, which would have to meet the criteria of being comfortable, have a hint of the exotic but with the practicality of keeping us warm in the unforgiving British weather. The hunt for these outfits would often take weeks and usually end up with me looking like Don Johnson's Miami Vice love child (It was the 80's).
Luckily now I have now reached an age where I can pick my own clothes, but that is the only thing that has improved when it comes to flying. The whole thing is just horrible and I my homeward flight from Hong Kong just highlighted why I hate it so much. So let me begin. First of all I always seem to have a flight at a shit time which means I have to get up at some god dam unearthly hour, to arrive at an airport still half asleep with no breakfast only to find every shop shut apart from bloody McDonald's, ( No wonder we have an obesity problem). Foreign airports also seem to think that just because it is hot outside that they have some justification to freeze you to death with overpowering air-con. Then you have to board the actual flight and the first thing you are faced with are the air hostesses or flight attendants as they like to be called these days. Now I have to be careful what I say here as my sister is a trolley dolly, but as a whole I don't like the creatures. For a start they greet you with those kind of Stepford wives smiles, which are so false, as underneath they are thinking how they can make this flight as miserable as possible for you, for the next 10 hours or so. This is done through a number of methods, with the temperature being their main weapon of choice. The bastards usually crank it down till you think your in Siberia and are sat there shivering to death. You then ask for a blanket, of which there are none left, so you ask if they could could turn the temp up and they give you that smile again and say "I'll see what I can do" (Which means NO!) I must admit though I do like seeing the Chav's freezing in their hot pants and strappy tops ( Serves you right for dressing like slags!) They then feed you something that looks like a dried turd in tin foil and you can only get a drink if you are quick enough to actually grab them as they speed by saying, "Tea! Coffee!" without any bloody intention of stopping.
Then there are the other passengers. I would not want to be left in a space the size of a shoe box, with my own family for 12 hours, never mind a group of annoying strangers. I always get the person in front of me who puts their chair right back, without asking, ( this time, a very loud, irritating American, who I thought I might kill). Then there is the person next to you who wants to go to toilet every two seconds, just as your finally falling to sleep. Then when you decide to go the toilet yourself, everyone else seems to go at the same time and you queue for ages being pushed out of the way the whole wait by the Dollies with some crap serving trolley. When you get to the toilet the person before you has had the smelliest shit in history which you have to endure until you have done your business. Then there is the freaky flusher which scares the hell out of me as I do believe every time that its going to suck me down with it. You get back to your seat in time for the baby behind you to start screaming for the next couple of hours. The air then starts to get stale with sweating feet and farts, which then gives you a headache. Then you get so dehydrated as there has been no drinks served for the last couple of hours. Then the Dollies come round wanting to sell you some crap Duty Free, ( I don't want a flying Biggles bear, I want a sodding glass of water!) You then come into land which buggers my ears (burst my ear drum when I was eight). Then fight your way out to exit, as everyone can't wait to leave this hell hole, with "Hope you enjoyed your flight!" ringing in your ears. One day when I'm not so out of it from the whole experience, I'm going to turn round and say, "Do you want to know where I'm going to stick my Duty Free Toblerone!" and see if there still smiling then!

OBSERVATIONS

* Only one this time. I don't think my sister will be talking to me after reading this!

P.S Just because I'm home, does not mean that my blog is stopping, so keep logging in. x