Part 3...

Mr Boston

After a wasted taxi ride from the harbour of Port Blair we were turned away from Central Lodge. Whilst sitting outside looking through my Lonely Planet guide a rickshaw pulled up next to us and a couple we had briefly spoken to on the ship from the mainland stepped out. Her name was Angela, but the guys name I consistently forgot. He was a chef from Boston so I’ll just call him Boston. When we were turned away from two more places the four of us started getting desperate, it was quickly becoming dark and we were all getting tired. Through several conversations with locals we eventually found a place on a rooftop of a hotel called the Phoenix Lodge where we could stay for one night costing us 25 rupees each.

The top of the winding stairs led to an odd shaped room, which was far too low for me to stand up in. The thick oak beams were a perfect place to hang hammocks from and the room was dry so I was content. Our room led out onto the open rooftop and there was a view of the bustling street below. We headed out for dinner a short distance away in a little place they knew. After a quick meal Mr Boston introduced Kim and I to a speciality Indian dessert, Falooda. It is made from curd and cream cocktail sprinkled with fruit and nuts that overflow the glass dish it’s served in. It was delicious, highly addictive and could be found in one place only in Port Blair - The Majestic Cool Bar.

When we came back from dinner Kim was the first to reach the top of the winding staircase and enter our communal room. She let out a gasp as she entered because there was a man sitting cross legged on the floor eating dinner – this was slightly more communal then I had anticipated and when the man was joined by a boy who ran through onto the rooftop I guessed we had been given the hotel staff’s quarters. This might be the staff quarters and we might only be paying 25 rupees each, but this was our room for the night and I really wanted a good sleep. After an ineffective conversation with the man enjoying his meal Mr Boston and I went downstairs to confront the hotel staff.

Mr Boston had enquired at this hotel before and had been told by Indian tourists that a room for a night would only cost 80 rupees. Fortunately a room had opened up so Mr Boston started filling in the appropriate paperwork so we could get settled. When Mr Boston had finished the appropriate forms he delved into his wallet to find his money. He pulled out 100 rupees and handed it over to the receptionist who immediately informed him the room cost 150 rupees. Without hesitation Mr Boston started arguing with the receptionist who quickly produced a crumpled piece of paper from a draw in his desk stating Indian tourists prices and Western tourist prices. Foaming at the mouth Mr Boston took the paper, ripped it up and flung it in the receptionist’s face - It was obvious I was going to have to do the talking. I pushed in front of Mr Boston, told the receptionist we wanted to keep the room we had, but without the man sitting there eating dinner. I figured we could get money off for the inconvenience so I asked the receptionist to follow me upstairs, which after some persuasion he did.

Standing in our rooftop suite the receptionist said “10 minutes”
I told him “No we need sleep, out now or the room goes down to 75 rupees”
He looked away and wobbled his head from side to side.
“Stop wobbling your head, look me in the eyes and answer me” I growled
I couldn’t stand fully in the shack and so I was stooped over, my face inches from his. I had my left hand up trying to direct his vision towards me and not the floor. He wobbled his head again and I began to despair.
“Seeing as you haven’t moved your fellow employee it means you are offering the room for 75 rupees” He agreed and as soon as I left the room I knew I should have gone for 50 rupees.

Diving And The Doctor

Kim and I had come back from Neil Island to learn how to scuba dive. We had enrolled in a dive school run by an eccentric Swiss guy named Franz. Jenny had told us about the place with the hope she might get to teach us and get some free dives, but everything was under the table as it was difficult for Herbert to work in the Andamans. I hadn’t met Herbert until he came and picked us up from Central Lodge, Kim Jenny and I jumped in the back of the green open top jeep and we were immediately whisked away. A short time later we pulled up to a hotel further in town and picked up three more divers, Tom, Paul and Ellie. Tom is a big skinhead who, at first, looked very fierce, but in actual fact couldn’t be nicer, more cheerful chap. Paul and Ellie are a young married couple. Paul is very slight and has a dark brown mullet, blond highlights with a rats tail. Ellie is also extremely skinny with brown dread like hair and brown eyes. Ellie and Paul climbed in the back of the jeep with the three of us and Tom was ordered to get in the front because Franz said Tom needed all the space he could get.

The day’s dive skills that were being taught were clearing our masks of water and buoyancy control. My own personal task was not to eat any more samosas after the experience I had whilst on Havelock! Even though they promised me the samosas weren’t iffy I still couldn’t face them and felt sick at the mere sight of the ghastly things. The diving was almost dreamlike and felt very natural to me, but Kim was feeling very different. At 5am the next morning Kim woke me with tears streaming down her face, and said she had been awake since 2am, she had water in her ears and was in some pain. I told her I would go to Jenny’s room and ask her advice on what to do. I had no idea how to handle the situation and was extremely worried about her, she looked very unwell, but Kim insisted that she would wait until morning rather then disturbing Jenny now. I sat with her for a while, but the days diving had taken it out of me and I eventually fell asleep again. When I woke Kim wasn’t in the room so I went down stairs to get showered and find out where she was. I passed by Jenny’s on the way and Kim was standing in the doorway describing her symptoms. We would not be able to dive today, and we soon found out Kim wouldn’t do any more diving the rest of the trip.

Back at Central Lodge Becky’s knock woke Kim and I from our afternoon nap and Kim realised she was in real pain now, her throat, neck and ears hurt due to the water trapped in her head. We quickly agreed the best thing to do was to take Kim to the hospital, Kim and Becky went ahead to get a rickshaw whilst I padlocked the sliding door on our room shut. I ran to catch up with them and found Becky arguing about the price of the rickshaw they had called over. I ordered the pair of them into the rickshaw as there really wasn’t any point in fighting for the sake of 10 pence at a time like this. The journey to the hospital was short and we quickly found ourselves in a beautifully landscaped entranceway. After some form filling in the surprisingly clean reception - which I did because it looked very much like Jin’s head was about to explode - Kim got to see the doctor. He pulled her head to one side and looked in her ear. Pulled her head to the other side and looked in that ear, and finally had a quick look down her throat. “Farringitis” he said as he wrote out an illegible prescription. He ushered us into another room where three nurses proceeded to ask all kinds of questions about our travels, where we were from, and everything under the sun except what was wrong with Kim. Eventually their questions were exhausted and they all seemed satisfied. With the three of them smiling from ear to ear Kim was handed three containers of pills and we left. Substantially more efficient then the National Health Service in the UK we were done in just over half an hour. The pills were to be administered with food so we headed to the well known Annapuna restaurant to eat dinner.

The Policeman

Kim leaving for Neil Island had turned into rather an awkward situation. She hadn’t been able to continue the diving course because of her illness and not wanting to hang around waiting for me all day she had decided to go camping on Neil Island on her own. Peter still hadn’t returned so she wouldn’t be entirely alone. Our 30 day permits for the Andaman Islands were due to expire in 5 days and we needed to buy tickets for our return journey to the mainland on the 25th. The next boat to sail to Neil Island was on the 25th leaving at 6am and we were required to buy the tickets by 9am. I didn’t have any of Kim’s documents or passport photos, and I was also running low on cash. I brainstormed with Jenny and we figured out the only possible way we could try and get in touch with Kim was by leaving a message at Chands Sweet Stall with the hope she might come in sometime soon to get some supplies. At 9am I took a rickshaw to the boat ticket office where I was told there was a boat leaving from Neil Island at 12-12.30 today bound for Port Blair. There was no boat going on the 24th, so she would have to be on today’s boat if we were to get off the Andamans in the next two weeks. At 9.50 I placed a call to Chands Sweet Stall to leave a message.
“Hello” I said, “Is a Chinese girl there please?”
“Yes” came the reply
“Is her name Kim”
After a few moments silence…
“Yes”
“Can I talk with her please?”
“Yes”
It was so fortunate Kim happened to be at Chands when I phoned, we had only visited Chands three times when we camped on the beach a week ago. I explained the situation and she said she would be on the boat. When I saw Kim walk through the entrance of Central Lodge I waved a great sigh of relief.

Whilst waiting the few days for our boat to sail back to the mainland Dave and Peter had returned from Neil Island. The group of westerners had grown considerably and nearly everyone we had met on the boat on the way over was due to return to Chennai on the 29th. Kim, Dave and I had taken a trip to Ross Island a small ex-colonial Island that had ruins of British settlement all overgrown by banyan trees and we had plans to return to Neil Island overnight taking the early morning boat there and the late boat back the following day.

We missed our 5am alarm and I woke to the sound of Dave’s voice outside getting a rickshaw, I sat up quickly and woke Kim - It was 5.40am. We hurriedly packed and followed behind Dave in the next available rickshaw. When we arrived at Phoenix Bay Jetty we ran towards the boat set to leave at 6.15 and saw Dave sitting on the steps down to the boat. There were five or six guards around him as I approached and one of them told me it was 30 rupees for the journey - this was extortion! The actual cost of the journey is 8 rupees if bought beforehand, and 16 rupees if bought on the day of travel. I tried my best to bargain with the guards, but to no avail they weren’t budging this morning. I stepped back and chatted to Dave for a couple of minutes. The guards weren’t paying attention so I tried to sneak onto the boat as I knew we could also buy tickets onboard once we set sail. I failed miserably in my attempt as one of the guards noticed my attempt and grabbed my arm, I lost my temper and pushed the guard away from me. This started a flurry of activity and shouting.
“You must no be pushing him!” screamed one of the guards at me “He does not like it if you are pushing him!”
“Well I don’t bloody like being grabbed!” I shouted back, and forced my way onto the boat. Kim, Dave and I walked to the back of the boat and settled down for the journey. I thought it had been settled and the guards had given up trying to con us.

I could still see the guards from where I was sitting and they could still see us. During the initial argument earlier we had been told that if we didn’t pay the inflated amount the guards would call the police to resolve the situation. I had told them to go ahead as I was the one in the right thinking they would have to adhere to the law and we would only pay 16 rupees each. The policeman arrived whilst we sat at the back of the boat and beckoned me to come ashore to sort this thing out. I said no to the policeman and that he should come to me and sort out the problem knowing full well that police don’t have any jurisdiction on the water, and I hoped it would faze him. The policeman may not have jurisdiction on water, but he was completely in the right to prevent the boat from leaving, which he did, until Dave gave in and paid for the three of us.

The Healing

On arrival on Neil Island Kim and Dave wisely left their bags at Chands Sweet Stall and we hurried off to beach no.1 to make the most of the day. I had been gone for less then a fortnight and the composition of the beach had completely changed due to the elements, I was astounded at how different it looked. Kim bounded off to find Jenny who had returned to Neil Island the previous day. There were people camping where we had set up camp the previous week so Jenny had headed further up the coast towards our sunset spot and found a sheltered section perfect for one person. I was so tired that night all I remember of the evening was lying in Jenny’s camp talking and the next thing I knew it was morning.

The only time it rained in the Andamans it came down hard. When I woke the sky was filled with dark clouds and after a couple of hours it started to rain. I hurriedly packed down my hammock and we all hid our bags under cover of a huge and ancient tree that boasted the most foliage and branches. The rain quickly got so heavy even under the cover of the tree we were drenched. There was nowhere to hide from the stinging rain. I took off my shirt and placed it under cover as best I could, and the four of us ran into the ocean to wait for the rain to stop. The tide was out and the sea was choppy making me cut my stomach on some coral reef, but strangely the wound felt good in the water and the sea felt wonderful being so warm compared to the temperature of the piercing rain.

The rain eventually stopped so we headed back to pick up our bags from Chands Sweet Stall and return to Port Blair to await the boat to Chennai. I woke up feeling slightly ill this morning, and I wondered if it was due to the change in air pressure. My stomach was starting to hurt and I had a slight headache. I guessed I was dehydrated or had eaten some iffy food, but at the time I didn’t think much more of it than that. The fresh air from the boat ride back to Port Blair made me feel a little better, but I am not a person who often gets headaches so this was slightly disconcerting.

The word about “Falooda” was out and now everyone wanted to try. A large group of us went down to The Majestic Cool Bar to give this famous desert a taste. I wasn’t feeling good at all and sat like a grumpy child in the corner whilst everyone else stuffed their faces. I had met Sasha three days earlier in Central Lodge and she was destined to change my perception of life. Whilst everyone was chatting away she came to me, asked me what was wrong, then told me she could get rid of the pain in my stomach and head using healing. She took me back to her hotel room and told me to lie down on the bed.

“I’m just going to take a quick shower first” she said “ it helps me concentrate” A few minutes later as my eyes were shutting and I was trying to block out the pain in my aching body I heard the shower running.
“Would you like to listen to some music whilst I’m healing” Sasha asked as she lightly woke me.
“Yeah that would be lovely”
“What would you like to listen to?” she said. “Something soothing… do you like classical music?”
“Yep”
“How about Handel’s Water Music?”
“That’s fine”
I have never had acupressure before and didn’t know what to expect from the experience. Sasha massaged pressure points on my hands and feet to completely relieve my stomach and headache and after only 30 minutes I felt light, relaxed and pain free. The boat was leaving for Chennai in a couple of hours so I didn’t chat for long and after thanking her I went back to Central Lodge to find Kim. As I walked through the reception of Sasha’s hotel Kim was sitting with Lindsay, a girl I had noticed in The Majestic Cool Bar. She turned out to be Sasha’s travelling companion and they were being paid to wander around India with a video camera making some kind of crazy travel documentary.

I left the two of them in the hotel and wandered back up the hill to Central Lodge, before I knew it several taxis had arrived to take us to our ship. The last ship was full of annoying Indian soldiers and I wondered what would be in store for us on this journey… Cockroaches, that’s what! Hundreds of tiny cockroaches maybe two – three centimetres long running all over my bunk and squeezing under the mosquito net that I hadn’t managed to hang properly. Despite the roaches I fell into a deep sleep, woke once briefly, and then fell back into my dream. Sixteen hours later I finally got out of bed. My head was pounding more than ever and my stomach felt like I had been punched, I was getting really ill.

Ship Hospital

The following day I remember lying in my hammock up on deck and feeling very uneasy about the swinging motion. Adding motion sickness to my other symptoms it didn’t seem like the wisest choice. I abandoned the hammock after a while and headed back to my bunk and the cockroaches, but they soon drove me out on deck once again. The evening was drawing in and I was beginning to feel cold outside. Sasha attempted some more healing whilst I lay on the deck outside, but due to the noise level and the motion of the ship, the healing wasn’t helping this time. In the back of my mind I remember hearing an argument between Kim, Sasha and a random guy who claimed to be a full time healer. He said he would be happy to help heal me with his special bowl – the kind you can pick up in any nick-nack store in India. In order to help heal me he needed to use clean water. He wanted mineral water from mine and Kim’s bottles, but we were desperately running low on drinking water, and there was nowhere to buy mineral water onboard the ship.

Soon the pain was too much and Jin went off to find the doctor. She came back and told me I was going to have to walk down to his office because he wasn’t going to come to me. The prospect of walking anywhere wasn’t at all inviting, and I didn’t feel like I could make it. I am sure I wasn’t half as ill as I thought I was, but at the time I felt I could barely move. With the help of Peter, Sasha and Kim I was on my feet again. My head was now pounding and affecting my vision and balance, but with their help I managed to make it down to the doctors quarters. He told me to sit and asked my symptoms. Headache, stomach ache, dizzyness and blood in my stool. Without so much as a flick of an eye he told me I have amoebic dysentery gave me some pills and told me to be on my way. “I feel like shit” I told him and insisted that I was put in the sick bay. With a lot of persuasion he agreed and I followed behind him with the help of rails and the walls to the ship’s hospital.

The sick bay was clean which seemed like heaven to me, there were several free bunks and I was helped into the one of my choice. The doctor told me I would have to drink a re-hydration drink and gave me a suspicious looking packet. He told Kim she could also stay in the sick bay if she wanted, but she was having a good time on deck before I burdened her with my illness and could do nothing for me now. I told her to get back to the party and she went off as I slept.

I woke in the night and after laying still thinking I decided to try the re-hydration drink the doctor had left with me. I poured the odd smelling powder into my remaining clean water and swirled it around. I took a sip and winced at the foul tasting substance, and no sooner had it gone down as I felt it come straight back up. I jumped out of bed, my legs found their strength and propelled me towards the toilet that I hugged like a long lost friend whilst my insides departed into the bowl.

The doc came to check on his patients the next morning at the same time Kim was paying a visit to see if I was feeling any better. I told him I couldn’t hold anything down, including fluids, and to this he grunted and walked off. He came back with a small bottle and a needle. “I will have to give you some of this” he said. My eyes widened and I turned to Kim to do the talking for me.

The rules I had been told about what not to do whilst travelling were being broken one by one. The first is do not give your passport away unless at gun point. This I had done twice so far journeying to the Andamans and back. The second is always use your own needles provided with the travellers medical kits you can buy, there is no telling what infections an unknown needle may carry. Kim relayed my fears to the doctor and said she could go and get my needles in an instant, although she actually can’t run very fast and has a wonderfully bad sense of direction that often leads her in the wrong direction. The doctor seemed to be vaguely aware that she was talking to him and looked round. “Do you not trust me?” he said. Which stopped Kim in her tracks. I was too weak to fight and the doctor wasn’t going to listen. He sucked the liquid from the bottle and I stared at the big needle he had in his hand, three quarters full of liquid with a massive air bubble at the top. I don’t usually look at people injecting me. I don’t like injections at all, but this time I stared at the needle as it went into my arm. I needed to make sure the air bubble didn’t make it into my blood. He pushed the liquid into my arm and to my relief stopped just shy of the air bubble. After that experience I slept on and off for the remainder of the journey, and was only vaguely aware of people coming to check on me, but I was in no mood to have guests and I didn’t stir until we arrived in Chennai.

Recovering

The ship pulled into Chennai at 6am and I got ready to disembark the vessel. The sleeping had vastly helped and I hadn’t died from yesterday’s injection so I was feeling more positive. The rush to get off the ship was the same as usual and the crowd battered me as I walked down the gangway, Kim grabbed my passport and met me on the shore. Just as I was calling over a rickshaw to take us to a hotel before they were all full of ship passengers Kim realised she had left a top of hers on the ship and hurried back to get it. I was left with the bags and although I was feeling better than I had done I had to crouch down to keep my mind off the pain in my stomach. When she returned we quickly made our way towards the exit to find a rickshaw and spotted a rickshaw driver who I called over. He was on his way back to the ship to collect passengers with lots of luggage to get big tips. We were relatively poor with virtually no luggage and obviously not what the rickshaw driver was interested in. He reluctantly let me climb aboard his rickshaw after I explained how ill I was and all the rest of my life’s troubles. We got in the rickshaw and reached the exit very quickly where he stopped and told us to get out. It was now obvious why he hadn’t wanted to take us as we were more than half way to the exit when we had called him over and we had minimal luggage.

With that we got off the rickshaw paid him and went off to find another. The state I was in I needed hot water to shower in and a good comfortable bed. I hadn’t had the chance to talk to the other westerners on the ship seeing as I was in the sick bay, but I guessed that they would go for the cheap and cheerful option. I agreed with Kim that she could pay 100 rupees and I would pay the rest if we stayed somewhere that was slightly luxurious. Two metres past the exit gates a rickshaw driver approached us and said he could offer us a good price to take us where we wanted to go. A further two metres down the street we discovered the reason why he was so cheap - he didn’t have a clue where to go! I jumped out and clambered into an autorickshaw, with Kim hot on my heels, and we were whisked away.

Kim had wanted to go to the hotel with Sasha, Lindsay and Laura, an Irish girl who was the life and soul of the party - the very thing I didn’t feel like being around right at the moment. We trekked from one side of Chennai to the other looking for a hotel and every place we found was fully booked. After circumnavigating the city we eventually found a place down the street from everyone else. I was a happy man having hot water, cable T.V to keep me entertained, and an extremely comfortable full sized bed. I hadn’t eaten for two days, and for some reason seemed to crave coke-a-cola. I spent a long while standing under the hot shower whilst Kim was out hanging with her new friends. I started wondering where it was I picked up this infection and eventually thought back to the one time I had a drink from “apparently” filtered water in a restaurant in the Andamans. As a consequence I had been shitting blood for the last three days, not able to hold any food or water down and the most terrible constant stomach and head aches. After freshening up I went down to the store opposite the hotel and bought some Coke. It was the first thing that had gone into my system in two days and it felt great.

The next couple of days ambled by as I slowly recovered, I had bought some medicine from the chemist that proved to be working. The next few days consisted of wandering around Chennai or sitting in my hotel room and watching cable T.V. Each evening I would go to the next rooftop to meet Kim and the others for music and stories, and I was fortunate enough to hear the opening credits to Sasha and Lindsay’s film - a piece of poetry performed in unison by the two of them.

One Last Night In Chennai

It was soon time to move on, I had bought a plane ticket to Kochin - on the West coast of India. Kim didn’t want to spend the money and so she had bought a train ticket and I would meet up with her there. She was leaving the night before to embark on the 16 Hour journey and said she would scout around for a room once there. I decided to go up to the rooftop for my last evening in Chennai and arrived to a musical welcome as Peter was playing a guitar duet with an Indian boy he had met by chance on the street that day. I was surprised to find there was a video team filming the evening’s events. Lindsay had been sitting watching Peter play, and after a few minutes of my arrival she noticed me and came to say hello. She looked absolutely beautiful tonight as she walked towards me. I was drawn to her sexy, care free personality that radiated warmth and excitement. I loved the talks we had over the last few days and was getting more and more drawn towards her with each passing minute, I soon found myself staring into her eyes hanging on every word.

It turned out John, the Canadian guy we had met on the way to Havelock, had hired the film crew for six hours that evening but had mysteriously disappeared and the film crew had no idea what they were supposed to be filming. As Lindsay was describing her day’s events to me two pizza delivery men arrived through the door onto the rooftop holding two pizzas, some garlic bread and two bottles of coke - my staple diet of recent. It turned out that John had ordered them, but wasn’t around to pay for them so after some confusion Lindsay left my side and ran down to her room to grab some money. Even before she had returned everyone was tucking in to the pizzas and the evening turned into a feast of music and food.

A long while later after the pizzas were finished, and the music was over John returned to the rooftop and simply said he had been for a walk. A very bizarre time to go for a walk, and walk in weird places he did - He was a man that has no fear of heights and often jumped from one rooftop to another instead of spending time using conventional means - stairs.

The evening wore on and my body became tired as I still wasn’t 100% yet – and wouldn’t be for some time. I had planned to meet Sasha and Peter tomorrow for a farewell breakfast in the Maharaja hotel. When I arrived at the hotel the next morning the two of them were sitting in a small eating booth chatting and within a few minutes the three of us were engaged in deep conversation about life and the ways of the world. We spoke about Vipassina meditation, a course I would take when I arrived back in the U.K. The food was good and the conversation was better, it was a perfect farewell to two people I had connected with on this life changing journey.

The Basoto Lodge

Kochin airport was out in the middle of nowhere, and all I saw as I stepped through the exit was a couple of autorickshaws and a school bus. The soil here was a dark red and reminded me of the landscape from Star Trek. After spending £150 on a plane ticket flying from one side of India to another I would attempt to save a few rupees by getting a bus instead of an autorickshaw. So I waited…. Surely the bus would be coming soon… Time moved on and an hour or so went passed. The only entertainment was a tourist information point computer screen showing the attractions of Kerala and I had got bored of this long ago. I was told the bus would be an hour and when that hour was up I was told it would be another hour. There had been a crowd of rickshaw drivers waiting as the plane had landed. I had enquired about the price earlier for the journey to the city and it was far too expensive for my liking, but now there were no rickshaw drivers around anywhere and it would be dark soon.

I paced back and forth on the dusty red road outside the airport and eventually an
autorickshaw pulled up and I started bargaining with him. We agreed on a reasonable price so I jumped in the back and we set off for the city, but Five minutes into the journey he told me the price had gone up and we started haggling once more. Eventually I told him to take me to the nearest bus stand and drop me there as it was evident he wasn’t about to give me a reasonable deal, and as we pulled up to the bus stop there was a bus waiting for me so I jumped on. I happened to sit next to a well spoken Indian gentleman who told me that the route to Kochin city would involve a change of bus. It was fortunate I sat where I did or I would have ended up going the wrong way and found myself on the other side of the city. He was going to make the same change so he agreed to guide me to my destination. When my stop came I thanked him, got off the bus and waited for my connection, which soon arrived. The bus dropped me at the bus station where it terminated. It was situated down a back alley and my new friend pointed me in the direction of civilisation. He told me he lived in the other direction and walked off into the night.

I wandered around for a while taking a few wrong turns and backtracking on myself a few times, but eventually found a main road. I tried in several shops to see if anyone had heard of Basoto Lodge on Press Gang Street, but to no avail, it seemed not to exist. I saw an internet café and decided to check my information so I sat down and re-read the e-mail she had sent. It had written down the information she had given me correctly, so she must have copied it down wrong. I decided whilst I was there I would write her and tell her what had happened. Time was running away and I was thinking about getting myself a place to stay for the night and finding her tomorrow. It was late and all the shops were closing their security shutters as I walked around. I eventually saw the light of a chemists in amongst all the security shutters and walked in hoping they could help me find the hotel. They had never heard of Press Gang Street or Basoto Lodge, but on the map there was a Press Club Road. It had to be the place, and within five minutes I was standing outside Basoto Lodge.

Kim was not there on my arrival and the receptionist was not the man who had checked her in. We quickly got into an argument because the rooms were all full and there was no way he was going to let me into someone else’s room for any reason, even if there was a note behind the counter saying I was coming and giving my description - I got pissed off very quickly. I was tired and all I could think about was sleep. My language rapidly became appalling, nothing I would repeat here, and so feeling threatened the receptionist said he would call the police if I didn’t calm down. I took that as a sign that he wasn’t going to let me in unless either Kim or his boss returned, so I slumped in a chair by the door and waited…

My wait was short lived as his boss had arrivedquickly and let me in straight away, I was so grateful and walked in and collapsed on the bed exhausted. The room Kim had found was spacious, clean and basic. There was a balcony with two dilapidated wooden chairs on and a view over the street. Kim had put up my double mosquito net over the bed situated in the centre of the room, and we had our own toilet to the right where the door was. The toilet looked like a throne as it had steps up to it and was three feet off the floor. Kim came back a little later and I accompanied her to a restaurant with the two guys she had met that day staying in the same hotel, Danny and Tommy. They had already heard about my dysentery and it was the second thing they said to me after the introductory “hello’s”. The four of us went to an eating house called “Safeway” situated on C S Road, a short walk from the hotel. It was a restaurant and a hotel, but they were mostly known their fresh fruit shakes. I still wasn’t eating much and didn’t feel like anything so I opted for a mango shake and watched the others eat as I told them about my journey from Chennai.

Once back at the hotel a party started and everyone gradually drifted into our room, but all I could think of was sleep. Eventually even amongst the chatter and music I drifted off to sleep. Later that night Tommy had wandered off to the waterfront and reports came back the next day he had been mugged.

Body Language

Kochin is famous for it’s fishing nets and the fishing is done in the same traditional way it has been for years. Kim and I only had one more day here, as tomorrow we were to start the last leg of our journey back to Mumbai, and finally home to England. We took a rickshaw down to the waterfront and a boat over to the other side of the bay where the majority of fishing boats were. There are beautiful breathtaking sunsets in Kochin, as vibrant and red as the soil. The water look dirty compared to the crystal clear waters of the Andamans, but the fisherman were catching plenty of fish, and I spotted two dolphins swimming a little way out. I heard a story of a fisherman who has a photo of a boat moored on Neil Island, the water is so clear it looks as if the boat is sitting on the sea bed.

The fishing nets are stationary contraptions made of wood and netting built on the shore side. The fishermen use ropes to hoist the nets out of the water every few minutes to check if they have caught anything, and most of them seemed to be doing well as far as I could tell. As I was standing watching one particular group of fishermen that caught my interest they called me over and said I could help them hoist a catch out of the water. I jumped at the chance and got stuck in with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, although I was very much weaker then usual, and due to my illness I only weighed 8.7 stone compared to my usual 10.2. It was tough work and after a couple of attempts I was pretty tired so Kim and I made our way back to the hotel to get some rest for our journey tomorrow. Tommy was originally on his way further south to Trivandrum, a place I would have loved to have gone to, but we heard reports of an outbreak of Cholera so Tommy decided to travel up the west coast with us to Gokana.

The train departed at 11.30 am and after milling round a bookstore for something to keep me occupied during the train ride we were the final leg of our journey discovering India. En route we had the misfortune of being spotted by some dodgy looking men, the book I bought was on body language so I became quickly suspicious of their behaviour. Kim and I were sitting comfortably before the three of them boarded the train, and they headed straight for us when they entered the carriage. One of them shook my hand as another sat in between Kim and me. He grabbed my hand aggressively and in a domineering and intimidating fashion according to my latest book - I thought we were about to get mugged. After a few seconds I got up and told Kim and Tommy we were moving to the other end of the carriage and they both quickly followed. After we moved the three guys started to become aggressive, and a man sitting opposite us gave us reports of what they were saying. I thought the best thing to do was to stand our ground so I started shouting back at the three of them to alert the other people in the carriage there was a problem. Eventually no-one spoke and the three of them were now staring at us, the tension became intense and I was thinking about getting us off the train before something bad happened.

I feel like I have done a lot of shouting on this journey and I have figured out body language is a really important part of communication. Even if people can’t understand each other’s language it’s always obvious if someone is happy or angry. In order to stop Kim and I getting ripped off I turned to anger several times as it was the best deterrent. Fortunately for the situation at hand the three guys got off at the next stop and scowled at us until they were out of sight.

The Managers Room

The train pulled in to Mangalore station at 11.30 pm, we had been travelling for 12 hours and were all feeling exhausted. Mangolore train station was very run down and when we got out on the street I started to feel slightly nervous. We had to stay here for the night to get our connecting train to Gokana early tomorrow morning. The locals were staring at as we walked past, although no-one said anything so I began to think they were more curious then anything else. Apart from the people standing outside the train station, and the cars that went zooming through the night the town was pretty deserted. The main road was up the hill in sight so we headed straight there.

We ended up staying in a very run down hotel within sight of the train station. There was one room left, but the manager was reluctant to give it to us. He said it was far too dirty and very small, we could have his room and he would sleep in the guest room. If the lobby was anything to go by the room he hadn’t wanted to give us must have been way past disgusting. The hotel was dimly lit with faded orange wallpaper hanging off the walls. Every surface had a layer of thick black dirt on it and the damp smell was positively overwhelming. After Tommy got us a very good price for the room the manager went off to collect his things from his room.

Our room for the night had little in it except a bed, a small table and a wardrobe in the far corner. I was so tired from yesterdays travelling I didn’t care how dirty the place was, including the fact the broken shower door housed one of the biggest cockroaches I have seen to date, or the amount of dead cockroaches on the floor of the room we were staying in. Tommy slept on the floor with my mosquito net tucked under his makeshift bed and Kim and I curled up on the single bed, I was asleep within minutes.

The train left at 7.10 and we were on it, I was glad of the early start so I could get away from the hotel. The train arrived at 12.30 in Gokana and the three of us immediately got a rickshaw to the beach, Tommy had stayed here before he went to Chennai and had been talking about Ohm beach for the last few days telling us how wonderful it was. We followed him blindly from this first beach we had landed on over a rocky pass and down onto a second beach. We walked along this beach and back up a steep slope over another steep slope. Here as in Kochin the rock was deep red, and the sea a deep blue. The beach we finally arrived on was a party beach with loads of westerners chilling out in the café’s and playing in the water. There was dance music being played in most of the café’s and bars. Tommy took us the full length of the beach past the makeshift café’s and we arrived at a beautiful chilled out spot, a courtyard café filled with hammocks and people lazing around in the sun.

We hung out with Tommy for a while eating banana pie and drinking beer, but we needed to find somewhere to sleep for the night. At the far end of the beach was a large hill filled with bushes and trees. Both Kim and I were reminiscing about the tranquillity of camping on Neil Island so we decided to walk up the hill and see if there was anywhere we could stay for the night. We found a spot to camp shortly before sunset and hurriedly unpacked so we could watch the sun go down. The deep red sunset was truly captivating, and I drifted asleep that night under the millions of stars looking down on me.

My Realisation

I was up early the next morning because it had got cold early in the morning sleeping on the hilltop and I had woken up shivering. I packed up my things as Kim was sleepily waking up and after a slice of banana pie for breakfast we stashed our packs in a bush and started the walk to Gokana beach to check out the market stalls. Whilst in the centre of this quaint little beach village Kim thought it would be best to book a room for tomorrow evening in preparation to continue our journey up the West coast back to Mumbai. After standing outside a nondescript hotel talking to a friendly manager we realised that we had miscalculated our length of stay here and that our train for Madgaon would be leaving early tomorrow morning, not the following day. This meant we would have to trek the couple of kilometres back to Ohm beach and up the hill to fetch our packs before nightfall.

The trek back to Gokana beach wasn’t too fun, Kim realised she had left her sarong in the restaurant as we were half a mile down the beach and ran back to get it. I said I would take both packs and she could catch up to save us some time. I started climbing the rocky terrain that leads from one cove to another and met Marty, a Belgian traveller heading in the same direction as me. The conversation quickly got deep and intense as we discussed life and everything surrounding it. I started on the topic of Kim’s and my relationship, and how it had changed over the time I had known her. How she used to be the love of my life and had now become purely a friend. I love the girl and I always will, a relationship like that is just far too important to throw away because it didn’t work out for one reason or another. As far as I could tell the journey through India, in part, had been our way of spending on last beautiful moment together where time stood still and we could say our goodbye’s before we parted ways for good. By the time Marty and I had reached the end of the next cove I began to worry about Kim. She had only gone back half a mile, and I had been walking with two packs for a fair while. She must be able to cover distance more quickly then me as I was trekking with two packs on, where was she? I decided to wait and so parted company with the Belgian, dropped the packs on the floor and sat in the shade.

I waited for a good while before she came into sight, and she was running when she came into view. The poor girl had got lost, had started panicking and only just found the correct route down to the beach. As she walked out of breath the last few paces towards me I had a big smile on my face. I was relieved to see she was ok and overjoyed because of my realisation that Kim and I would be ok after this journey was over, I gave her a friendly hug as she collapsed on the floor next to me.

Bollywood

We wandered around several market stalls in Madgaon and came back to sit on the train station platform once more to wait for the train. I got fed up and convinced Kim that we should get a room to get some proper rest before our final leg of our journey to Mumbai. Earlier that day we had tried to leave our bags in the cloakroom at the train station, but it wasn’t open. “It will be open at 4pm” we were told, so we went back at 4. “It will be open at 4.30 pm” the man then told us and so we waited until 4.30. At four thirty we were told the cloakroom would probably be opening at 5pm, but that it wouldn’t be open when our train leaves so was actually useless to us. After a lot of bargaining I managed to get a room above the train station for us to freshen up and have a proper sleep in. I haggled the price down to 250 rupees because our train was leaving at 2am the following morning so we would only be staying there for a couple of hours. The deal was that we would pay them 300 rupees upfront and when we departed we should knock on the office door to give the key back at which point the night watchman would give us 50 rupees refund. I didn’t expect to see the 50 rupees again, but to my astonishment the man kept his word as we checked out at 1.30am to wait for our train.

At 3am the train finally arrived. It had been a cold night and I was wearing all my clothes and holding Kim trying to keep us both warm. We booked sleeper carriages on the train and as soon as I put my head on my makeshift pillow I was asleep. I slept on and off the entire journey and eventually the train pulled into Central Station, Mumbai sometime early in the morning. We made our way to the airport and left our bags there. This was our last day in India after two months exploring and we had decided to catch a movie - you can’t go to Mumbai without watching a Bollywood movie. It was a fantastic experience and the movie theatre was as modern as they get. The movie itself was a cheesy love story with tons of singing and dancing, but a spectacular event all the same, it went on so long there was even an intermission break in the middle. The cinema was situated opposite an ashram that we checked out after the movie had finished. It was a magnificent place and I felt privileged to be allowed in. They were serving food so we had a beautiful last meal there, a wonderful end to two months in India.

The End