Phoned home last night and my son wouldn't talk to me. Missing Daddy has now turned into extremely cross with Daddy. Would have flown home there and then if I could. I feel sick in the pit of my stomach.
-----
The deep clean of the beach happened today. I got involved.
The group of volunteers, a mix of locals and tourists, set about clearing the bottles, the bags, the paan packets, the crisp packets, from around the spring at the north end of the beach. Before long, 30 large bags of rubbish had been collected up. At which point, we ran out of bags and the operation ground to a halt.
So, what happens next? Hopefully, the gesture of unity and community will inspire locals and tourists alike to not throw their crap over the cliff and around the beach.
Sadly, what is more likely is the bags of rubbish will end up thrown over the cliff and around the beach.
----------
-----
The deep clean of the beach happened today. I got involved.
The group of volunteers, a mix of locals and tourists, set about clearing the bottles, the bags, the paan packets, the crisp packets, from around the spring at the north end of the beach. Before long, 30 large bags of rubbish had been collected up. At which point, we ran out of bags and the operation ground to a halt.
So, what happens next? Hopefully, the gesture of unity and community will inspire locals and tourists alike to not throw their crap over the cliff and around the beach.
Sadly, what is more likely is the bags of rubbish will end up thrown over the cliff and around the beach.
----------
The 16724 Anantapuri Express is anything but express but it’s proving an excellent Indian train experience. Unlike the trains to and from Jaipur, which were fairly grimy and full of crawling or scurrying creatures, this one is spotlessly clean, well lit, and vermin-free (inshallah). This is good news as I’ve got 16 hours on this badboy.
The presence of a tourist on the train is not uncommon, but clearly doesn’t happen every day and I am being well looked after by my fellow carriage folk. Everyone is desperate to offer advice on where to go and what to do in and around Chennai, which is very useful. And, as always, when I reveal my son’s name is the same as that of an Indian cricketer, the hospitality cranks up a notch.
The drawback with the 16724 is that there is no onboard catering. So far, there’s no real evidence of many traders peddling edible wares either. With a rumbling tummy (I’ve been pretty good at sticking to a two-meal-a-day policy), this could be a problem.
Hari is a well to do young lad travelling to Chennai to see his brother. There’s a nice elderly couple, the fella works for MRF, (“Former sponsors of Sachin’s bat” he tells me, proudly) and the woman is lovely but burps loudly everytime she drinks her 7-up. Opposite is a young lad who looks like Rahul Dravid. They’re all good and amusing company.
I could have done this journey by plane in about an hour, but to do that is to miss out on that real Indian travel experience. As the train snakes through parts of Kerala I haven’t seen before and the sun sets behind the mountains that poke through a forest of coconut trees, I’m pleased I stuck to my “must do an overnight train trip” pledge.
Bang on cue, snacks arrive. Idli, steamed round rice cakes served with a brutally hot chilli and coconut chutney arrive, I hand over my 15 rupees (20p) and tuck in. This is the life.
Skyped home today and caught the family at home and in a good mood. I have cheered up no end. And I’ll be home in well under a week. Can’t wait to see them all.
No comments:
Post a Comment