A Enormous Spider, Jellyfish as lubricant, Santa comes to India, The Washing machine (Part II)

An Enormous Spider

Mornin’ I was just about to start typing this edition of the blog when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. At first I thought it was a mouse but then it spread its front two legs and waved them at me. It was a spider, the biggest spider I have ever seen outside a zoo, without exaggeration 4 inches from the tip of one hairy leg to the tip of the other. The body was 3 cm long, and an array of steel grey eyes glinted at me as it crawled out from behind Sarah’s bag to give me the once over. I say crawled out, in fact I think I saw it actually push the bag out of the way.

 IT WAS HUGE.

Being manly and the “protector of the home” I immediately did as all other men would have done in this position, woke Sarah. Obviously I was not scared of this eight eyed, eight legged, twin fanged intruder I just wanted her to have the opportunity to share in this wonderful moment of nature and needed someone to keep an eye on this nightmare while I went for the camera (there was no way this one was going to be allowed to slope off and leave me wondering where it had got to – see Facebook for pic) . She opened one eye and like some roman emperor immediately issued its death sentence. The question was how to do the deed? This was a big bugger. I know from previously looking up Tiger Centipedes in “All things that bite you in Southern India” that there are no lethally toxic spiders here in Kerala, unless you are allergic that is, but from some of the accounts of the spider bites on line some feel as though you have been “… stabbed with a red hot needle” or “… shot”, neither of which are my fave ways to start the day. Fortunately on our last trip to Pothys department store (see Santa comes to India later in this post) I had purchased an electric stun tennis racket/mossie killer/tazser thingy with a 6 inch head which if I got my first strike in just right would just about cover the damn thing. There was to be no “set to stun” If the first strike failed to incapacitate and he beastie managed to make a brake there was no way Sarah was going to get back to sleep, well one of us would need to keep watch while I typed. There was no room for error… Power Switch – ON, Charge Button – Pressed, wait for just the right moment and…

CRACK!!!!

SHIT!!! It didn’t die!!! It was still moving!!! AGAIN!!! HIT IT AGAIN!!!!

CRACK!!!!!

ITS STILL ALIVE!!!!!!!

Fortunately the 50,000 volts from the mossie tazser had stunned it so with a swift flick of the wrist I scooped it up on to the grid bit of the “electrobat” and then chucked it out into the night. I understand that ECT can cause memory loss, I’m just hoping its true for spiders too as I don’t want that one coming back looking for revenge.

Jellyfish as Lubricant

N.B. Before you rush out in search of jellyfish please read this to the end or you may live to regret it.

After 8 years of watching the fishermen on Kovalam beach haul in their catch I thought I’d seen it all. Fishing boats go out, make a loop around the bay with the net, fishing boat returns, fishermen pull the two ends of the net together on the beach while singing fisherman pulling in the net songs, jellyfish chucked out of the net, catch sorted, boat pulled up beach, net dried and repaired, start again tomorrow, end of. One thing I’d missed was what do they do with the jellyfish? Here nothing that can be used is allowed to go to waste and over the season they catch tons of the things, they are just an inedible slimy gloopy mass clogging up the nets, or so I thought until the other day.

At the end of dropping the nets into the sea the fishermen have to get the boats back onto the beach, there’s no slipway, no boat trolley and the boats are 25ft long solid timber jobs so how is it done? After all anyone who has sandpapered wood knows that sand and wood aren’t the most friction free combination. Enter the jellyfish, natural enemy of the body boarder, the fishermen use them to create slime highway , throwing them under the boats as they pull them up the beach. Simples… and it only took me 8 years to spot it.

N.B. – Again. I would think it is inadvisable to use jellyfish as any other type of lubricant but as they say… whatever floats your boat? J

Santa comes to India

He is here!!!! Honest, he is, I’ve seen him!!!! Well a twenty foot fibreglass version of him anyway. Santa has arrived in India or more accurately he has arrived at Pothys Department Store. As soon as the Diwali decorations came down up went the Christmas ones turning the store entrance in to a cross between some adman’s neo-apocalyptic version of the North Pole and the 7^th gate of hell. So its not just the morally bankrupt  “Christian” west that does it, India is capable of turning a religious festival into a “Marketing Opportunity” just as well as we can. In fact in many ways they do it better, more bling, more artificial snow, bigger reindeer, massive Santa’s and very little Jesus to spoil the excess. After all Santa is here on the 20^th of November, Jesus doesn’t turn up in his crib until the 25^th….

The Washing Machine (Part II)

As you know from the last blog we have bought a washing machine, it was fitted without loss of life, so all was good and we thought that was the end of the matter. I know some of you ae concerned that we have made the laundry service redundant and what will they do now, there are two answers to this question the first and most obvious being everyone else’s laundry, we weren’t the only customers. Secondly India has another scheme to take up the slack. Two to three days after our washing machine was installed we received a call from Christopher that the LG engineer needed to see us at the house. 

Assuming the worst, major flood while we were on the beach, electrocuted small child due to faulty installation, a no foreigners allowed to own a washing machine clause on the visa we had missed we returned to find two washing machine engineers on the doorstep, neither of whom could speak any English. Fortunately as you are aware I am fluent in communication by means of dance and it became apparent their - note plural, job was to show us how to use a washing machine (… and swoop, left together, right together, jazz hands). It was very interesting  as it became obvious that the nearest these two lads have ever been to running a washing machine was drinking tea in the teashop two doors up from the laundry.

India, I love it.

Have a good weekend

‘Till next time

Cheery pip

K&S

The “big shop,” A washing machine, three pyramid teabags and a roll of dental floss

The last week has been one of playing house, obtaining all the bits and bobs we need to live for the next 5 months.  After all we can’t eat out every night, which would sort of defeat the point of living out here.

Obviously there are things we have bought with us, essentials which can’t be bought here in India e.g. good coffee, Gillette Fusion razor blades, Heinz tomato sauce, etc. all the important expat things which life would be so much the poorer for having to go without. Everything else requires a trip to Trivandrum to one of the big supermarkets/department stores. There are three main supermarkets in town, Pothys (John Lewis/Waitrose), The Big Bazaar (ASDA/Debenhams/Lidl hybrid) and Spencer’s (confusingly more like Sainsburies than M&S) and we tend to use either Pothys or the Big Bazaar as they have a department store thing going on so you can just do the one stop shop thing, vital when doing “the big shop”. Yes I know, I can hear you from hear “…but what about the wonderful markets, haggling over the price of organically grown local produce, the local colour!!! Surely the supermarkets are a westernised cop out!!!”

Too bloody right they are, they are also air conditioned, relatively dust and grime free, and have all the aisle signs up in English so you don’t spend hours mowing up and down the same row looking for a bag of sugar in the insecticide section.

There is a time and place for local colour, and “The Big Shop” isn’t it. It’s a commando operation, list, plan, in, out, not a recreational activity, so with Ravi piloting the tuk-tuk off we went. Knowing from all great military actions an army marches on its stomach and the maxim of never shop hungry, the first stop was breakfast at a restaurant, masala dosas and chai all around then onward to Pothys. It was a two trolley shop, plastic containers by the dozen (not very eco but I prefer my food sans ants) , mops, cleaning equipment and potions (next to the aisle of Gillette Products), basic spices (found next to the Heinz Tomato Sauce), dhal, chapatti flour (by the fresh coffee bean grinding section). It took about 3 hours and by the end we were both tired but headed home with a feeling of accomplishment, a job well done.

Once home we unpacked which took almost as long as the shopping trip. At which point we realised that the shopping on full stomachs has its downside, we had full cupboards but nothing for dinner so we went out to eat.

The Washing Machine

Last winter we sent all our laundry to a little man who lived down the lane, for £5 he would pick it up, wash it, iron it and return it all within two days. Occasionally there would be burrs in my underpants from them being dried on the bushes but in the main it was a great service. However, this year it has gone up to £9, which prompted some swift maths, cost of laundry £9 x 20 = £180 verses cost of washing machine @ £150.

So we decided to buy a cheap(ish) washing machine. Ravi picked us up as usual, obviously we needed to stop for breakfast (cost £5) as the “never shop on an empty stomach” maxim had worked so well previously and then on to the Big Bazaar. We found a rather nice looking LG Automatic top-loader for £159 but with some careful haggling, sucking of teeth and judicious hurmphing managed to beat the salesman down to £149 with discount. Obviously we also needed an iron which was another £6, powder £4, conditioner £3, oh and a tap £2 to plumb the washer in as none of the taps in the house fitted the fill pipe adaptor.

The machine was delivered the same day and after much swearing was connected up and running (obviously ignoring the initial abortive load which resulted in the washer emptying onto the floor as the pipe wasn’t pushed far enough into the waste trap) in a couple of hours. So… total cost inc. Taxi to Trivandrum. £149 + £5 + £6 + £4 + £3 + £2 + £10 = £170 a grand saving of £10 (ignoring electricity and water and assuming we don’t need any more powder, obviously from next year we will be quids in!! as long as it is still here, working and survives the monsoon.)

A Bargain!!!!

Three tea bags and a roll of dental floss

At what point did three pyramid tea bags and a roll of dental floss become a swimming costume? Having had my briefs on occasion ride up into the crack of my bum and found it at least disconcerting I’m sure it can’t be comfortable and yet there appear to be more 18 to 25 year old women on the beach this year who feel a bit of dental floss is a costume. From their faces I know they are in discomfort as none of them look particularly happy and to relieve the situation they seem to need to wander along the edge of the beach wiggling their buttocks, presumably in an attempt to re-jig the bit of string. 

Maybe its because most of them are on holiday with their dads and grand fathers (funny none of their moms are around) and they would rather be off with their mates than sitting on a beach with an old bloke with a bit of cotton wedged up their admittedly tanned and pert bums.

The prettiest costume I have seen this year was a short floral swim skirt and bikini top, playful, sexy and on the right body stunning and the Russian bloke who was wearing it looked fantastic.

Ho hum, time for breakfast

Cheery pip

Kevin

Returning To Kovalam, Renting a House Again, Expectation Management,

Returning to India

 Hello folks, its 5:30 a.m. on Saturday 1^st November and chucking it down, thunder, lightning, the works . Its been just over 6 months since we left India and the last blog ended. I decided to give it (and you) a break over the summer, mind you it’s not been uneventful, I might let you in on what happened later, when I’m at a loose end.

Anyway, where were we? Ah yes, when I left off we had just bought tickets to go back to India and six months on, here we are back in Kovalam. In fact we have been here for just under three weeks.

 We decided after last year’s trauma of having arranged a house, getting off the plane to discover we hadn’t got a house, moving into a hotel until the house was sorted, thinking we had a house again, being told we had to wait for papers, discovering there was no guarantee that the papers would ever be issued, having to change hotels,  playing location, location, location , finding another apartment, moving in etc. we would abandon any idea of having things pre-arranged for our return, i.e. to start from scratch on arrival and  skip straight to the house hunting phase.

 A word of warning, if you are coming for 3 weeks or less I would advise you do NOT attempt this strategy it takes too long and definitely don’t attempt it if you are arriving in high season. Why? Because once the Russians have landed mid-November onwards all the best houses and apartments will have gone until the end of February. Don’t get me wrong there will be places to stay, but the choice and availability here in Kovalam will be “restricted”. At this point you will also find India understands supply and demand very nicely thank you  and may discover it would have been cheaper to stay in a 5* suite.

So, how did it go?

The Outcome

Success!!!! We are now in our house for the winter, it’s a new build three bed villa/bungalow, each bedroom has its own fully tiled en-suite wetroom (though one hand basin drains straight onto your feet as it hasn’t been connected to the waste pipe), it has a brand new (recycled)  fully fitted kitchen , a  large lounge diner, marble floors throughout, great roof space for yoga/sunbathing/laundry and a traditional Keralain veranda with a fan to sit out in the evening . The house is on the edge of the lighthouse beach area in  farm land/semi jungle (it’s not really jungle more banana, papaya, coconut plantation, it just feels and sounds jungly)  It’s a twenty minute walk to the beach so just far enough to pretend that you have walked off that extra naan bread or bottle of Kingfisher. It is as good as it sounds and bigger than our home in the UK.

The Process

How can I put it, with the help of Christopher, our friend from previous trips, no one died, it was less traumatic than last year, no animals or children were hurt in the process (though once moved in I did come close to strangling a small boy and his friends who thought playing commando creeping round the back of the building to peer in a t the window and stare at my white arse as I emerged from the shower was great fun. So much more entertaining than local non-cable TV (to be fair they did have a point here, less adverts).

So what am I complaining about? After 8 years of coming to Kovalam you’d think I was used to things by now but there are two traits of Indian culture which when mixed with any business transaction drive me nuts. The first is an overwhelming and delightful desire to please, anything and everything are possible and your request no matter how unreasonable is likely to be met with a smile and a positive response. The second trait is the inability to understand the concept of time, in short “when” in relation to specific time has no meaning. For example when Sarah asked how long before the bungalow would be clean and papers sorted so we could move in these two factors clashed massively. On one hand Gopi, the landlord, wanted to please on the other under his concept of time and he did not think Sarah was actually asking for a date. His response of  “It will be 10 days. No! 7 days and you can move in!!! All will be ready!!! And we will have installed mosquito nets on all windows, fully cleaned the house, varnished and polished all the furniture and moved the 25kg of chilli which is drying in the kitchen. No problem. 7 days!!!.” All accompanied by much smiling and wobbling of the head. (I should have known by now, see previous blogs on the meaning of a wobbling head). Sarah may as well have asked will you be wearing purple socks as “when?”.

From day 6 Sarah began to get twitchy (incidentally day 5 was Diwali so nothing was going to happen during days 3 to 8). Day 10 came and went. Christopher had taken to hiding from us as the process dragged on and on in the end he took two days leave and sorted things out.

In fact we moved in on day 13, which was in truth amazing, imagine seeing a house you want to rent for five months on the 19^th of December, a house in which all the furniture needed varnishing, all windows needed mossie screens fitted, a major post build clean and then getting it signed off as suitable for habitation by the council over the Christmas period and being able to move in on the 29^th, oh and 25kg of dried chilli moved to boot.

So we are here, its lovely and definitely the best house we have rented so far. I’m really looking forward to this winter.

Cheery Pip

Kev

My last blog entry winter 2013. Home.

So this is my last blog entry for my first year and a bit of retirement, its been a strange time and I hope you have enjoyed the ramblings.

Its 7:00 BST and I'm sitting in the sauna aka the shed in our back garden peering out of the window watching the birds on the bird feeder. We have been back from India for 10 weeks now, we have caught up with friends and family and started to put the house and garden in order for the summer. I thought it might feel strange being back but I really wasn't expecting a massive culture shock on returning home. How wrong could I be? In short - very.

Lets do the obvious and physical stuff first, its been cold, not just cold but damp coldness that found its way into my knees and Sarah's lower back making it necessary for us both to making hurumph noises as we climb off the sofa. As everyone around us begins to brighten as winter recedes, for us it has felt like autumn as we moved from tropical heat to British spring. Our first reaction was to start looking for somewhere, (anywhere), we could go to get warm again and immediately, before we succumbed to the winter glums. After watching the IPL on telly (Delhi beat Calcutta in the last over of a thrilling match) we actually considered buggering off to Dubai for 4 nights to catch a couple of matches as the competition had moved to the UAE while India was in the throws of their elections. Only when we realized it would cost about the same as 3 - 4 weeks in Vietnam did sense prevail, in the end we just gritted out teeth and turned up the central heating.

OK so i should have expected the weather to have an impact and it has but it will (should) get better soon so why has returning had such an effect? I think its a mixture of the culture, the contrasts and echoes of our life before we retired coming back to haunt us, that and a shift in what is important. I think for me my worst nightmare is being seduced back into a consumerist western lifestyle, one we had abandoned in India. A lifestyle where "stuff" and its acquisition takes the place of just being, where Amazon promises to deliver happiness within 24 hours and cosmetics companies dispense eternal youth and beauty because according to Cheryl Cole - "you're worth it"

Side Note - At what point did we suddenly need to be told our worth by a pop singer working for a make-up firm? Thanks Cheryl pet, I feel much better knowing i'm worth circa £25 and whatever the "it" i'm worth is, it comes in a jar. How stupid do they think we are do they think advertising works and we are influenced by all that hype. Ridiculous.

No selling out for us!!!

So... after being back for about a month I was drinking a cup of coffee i'd made in my new bean to cup machine and watching an episode of Elementary in glorious 7.2 surround sound (Had I told you I'd bought a new AV receiver as the old one was obsolete? It only had Dolby 5.1 which obviously was just not good enough), when an advert popped up on the screen. Guess what, there was a sale at DFS. I know, imagine my excitement after all its something that doesn't happen everyday, some items even had up to 50% off!!! It was too good to miss so we jumped in the car and headed for the nearest store.

We are now the proud owners of a new corner sofa unit, most of one anyway, the storage poof hasn't arrived yet. Actually that's not quite true, its arrived twice so far each time its been damaged but i'm assured by the store that its due any day now.

So... where was I? Ah I remember, not selling out.

Oh, we have made one other purchase - two tickets to India departing early October 2014 returning end of March 2015.











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The penultimate post, 15 elephants in a car park and dancing with artificial christmas trees on your head

Morning all, its 07:30 and it must have rained in the night as the ground is damp and its a cool 26 C this morning. In just over two weeks we will fly back to the UK after 5 months here in Kovalam. I've decided this will be our last post from here in India, I will knock out a photo edition on our return, when i'll have more time to sort and edit them. Until then here is a random picture to be going on with. I spoke to my mom earlier in the week who asked if we were ready to return and have we "got it out of our system?" (not quite sure what she meant by IT) but i gave her an honest answer.

No.

I'm not saying we haven't missed friends and relatives and that there weren't times when being so far away from the kids wasn't difficult because they were, but life here is good for us. I could try and justify it in economic terms, rent on the apartment being less than our gas bill, cost of living etc. and no doubt that helps but being here has been about much more than money.

I could also go on about the health benefits we have enjoyed, I've lost what must be getting on for 3 stone (i tried on my belt last night and from being on the last notch I will now need to cut a new hole to wear it, none of my swim shorts fit and I have to pull the draw strings tight to avoid losing them in the sea and both of my knees work without complaint).

Its not just about being warm, the sunshine or the longer daylight hours, though the thought of returning to cold, dark damp mornings fills me with dread.

Nor is it the great hospitality and kindness we have been shown by our new friends.

Its India, it gets under your skin and into your blood, the chaotic and serene, poverty and affluence, spiritual and materialistic, living side by side. As I've said before this place assails, offends and delights the mind and senses like no other i've known. 

We have already begun to plan for later this year, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos and then back to India for winter 2014/15.

15 Elephants in a car park

Last week Ruth, Sarah's second cousin, came to visit for a couple of weeks. It was interesting to watch someone's reactions to what we have come to see as "normal". While she was here we went to see a temple festival just north of Trivandrum in a smallish village as we had heard there were to be elephants. And there were, 15 of them, fully grown Indian Elephants. We arrived early and got to see them being dressed for the parade. Our first elephant sighting was on a plot of land just off the main village street, it was being rested after being brought in for the ceremony, she was a 30 year old female and to be honest looked tired and a little worse for wear. She was standing in the shade under a tree and her Mahoot was trying to get some rest a few feet from her. In her trunk she held a coconut palm frond, about 5 ft long, and was using it as a giant fan/fly swat casually waving it around as though it was as light as a feather. We took a few photos and were about to leave when our driver told us there was another elephant in the garden next door. He wasn't joking, just over the wall in someones front garden there was a young 15 year old male elephant, he stood bright eyed, stripping palm leaves with his trunk and pushing the fronds into his enormous mouth. The dexterity he displayed with his trunk was absolutely amazing. Its only when you stand 3 ft away from an elephant, with no bars or fences between you do you truly appreciate the size and strength of these magnificent animals. They way they look at you, size you up and seem to be aware of all that is going on, this is no big cow, there is a spark of "knowing" behind those large dark eyes. We stood and watched in awe, and then noticed that the family who owned he house where he has resting were all outside with cameras, clicking away ten to the dozen, not taking pictures of the elephant but of us. To them we were the "strange and exotic beasts" in the garden, we were the visitors who they would dine out on for months to come.

 "Do you remember when that enormous white, i say white he was actually bright red, man and those two women were in our garden? He was over 6 ft tall i didn't know they were that big until i stood next to him. The way he drank a whole liter of water in one go!!! I think he was hot even though it was only 30 C"

After we had talked to the house owners daughter, she told us they have an elephant in the garden every year, we followed the elephant down the road to the temple car park to see him dressed with the others.

When we got there, there were 3 elephants waiting some with their ceremonial head dresses in place, chomping on whole banana plants and taking things in their stride. The police were already there checking the registration documents of the animals and mahoots alike, no certificates of health for the elephant or correct documentation no parade and a spell in jail. Temple elephants are well looked after and strict rules enforced in their use, these are prized and potentially dangerous animals. All was in order, i.e. the elephants and mahoots passed muster and the elephants hadn't killed anyone in the previous four weeks (this is not a joke, its one of the rules, if they had, they would have had to have had "the nod" from the Wildlife and Forestry Commission before they could be used).

Quickly the four elephants became six, then ten, then thirteen and finally we were surrounded by 15 elephants in a space 50 x 50 meters, all being dressed for the parade, a truly awe inspiring sight.

Meanwhile at a stage on the edge of the car park we were treated to a display of drumming, martial arts and dance while surrounded by elephants who just stood there, watching us watching them as they ate their lunch.

Then in a moment worthy of Monty Python six men appeared on the stage. On each of  their heads was balanced what i can only describe as a 4 ft tall 3 ft wide silver artificial christmas tree covered in brightly coloured tin foil flowers. They then in all solemnity proceeded to dance, it was totally surreal. I didn't know if i should be amazed, impressed, or just howl with laughter. It was so..... India.

Ok thats it until we are back in the UK, I have dosas getting cold and a beach getting hot to see to.

Have a good week

K&S

xxx

Being Manly....

Good Morning, its 8:36 a.m. here in Kovalam and i'm sitting in the apartment alone eating home made dosas and sambal. I say home made, i didn't make them, Muntaz the apartment owner who lives in the downstairs apartment did. Sarah and Ruthy are off on a rice boat cruising the Keralan backwaters, think gourmet Keralan food, Norfolk Broads plus rice paddis, duck herders in canoes, 30+ C lounging on day beds as the world floats by and you will get the picture. I on the other hand have spent the last two days bouncing over some monster waves, reading a Robert Harris novel, sleeping on the beach and last night watching a Stalone/Arnie film while eating a chicken tikka masalla and downing a couple of tins of Bud, each to their own.

Breakfast this morning was a surprise, or rather second breakfast, as i'd already had a couple of weetabix. Muntaz had decided as i had been abandoned by these feckless women I would be unable to feed myself and delivered my second breakfast. She also took one look round the apartment and decided i have to hand in my key so she can clean when I'm out.

Being a self reliant "modern man" (ok ok i can hear the howls of laughter from the rice boat from here) the job description for being a man or woman feels very strange and rather awkward here to western eyes. For example, back home we have several unwritten rules, if you cook the meal the other person washes up, (this isn't just courtesy but a survival technique as we both make rubbish sous chefs), once it becomes impossible to tell the TV is HD its time to dust, hovering is to be done when the plain carpet is beginning to look patterned or when we had dogs when it had a black Labrador sheen and in the main it is a joint effort.

Here this is "women's work", Muntaz and Jodthy (our friend Chris's wife) find it very strange that a man should or even could cook or wash up in their own home when they have a wife. Not very manly, ironic in a country where most of the men wear skirts.

This is amusing side to gender here but there is a much much darker one.

A month ago the Hindu reported a rape of a village woman in the north of India, disturbing enough but the details were horrific. It was a gang rape, not by a drunken mob or a sex offender ring but by a village. The woman had "had relations" with a man from another village and the headman in the village had sentenced her to be raped in the village square by the men of the village and her lover to be forced to watch.

She had not immediately reported the crime as she was afraid if she did the village would shun her and her family, indeed members of her family have now disowned her for doing so.

In the celebrity section of the paper a famous actor was telling the world how he hates India being labelled as a "developing nation" as it is the world's largest democracy, had a centuries old culture, is a world power, had hosted some of the most impressive technological advances of the 21st century and had "arrived".

I think he needs to take a look around and get back on the bus.

And now I think i'll go have a quick tidy round, do the washing up and make the bed before I go to the beach and before Muntaz pops back upstairs....

K

Becoming Hinglish, Indian Building. and a Pair of Pants

So the weekend is fast approaching, time is flying by and we have just another five and a bit weeks here in India. This time next week Ruthy, Sarah's second cousin, will have arrived to get her first taste of India. I'm looking forward to seeing Kovalam through a fresh pair of eyes as much of "The Unusual" has become common place for us now. A familiarity as crept into how we see the place, we no longer remark on the litter except when its been cleaned up, the heat and day-in-day-out sunshine are taken for granted, occasionally I catch myself wobbling my head in response to questions but mostly it goes unnoticed and i find myself drifting into Hinglish syntax and phraseology. We are absorbing and being absorbed into this massive, populous, terrifying, delightful, confusing, wonderful country. We have learnt time here is relative and moves forward at its own pace, things happen when they will and trying to force the issue is pointless. Much as we have learnt to time our entry into the sea to reach safe swimming rather than to attempt dive through the breakers and end up thrown back onto the sand, we have learnt how to wait. When something is delivered "on time" it is to be celebrated but the important thing is that it is delivered at all.

This weekend the hotel being built just outside our kitchen window is due to finally open for business, you may remember we attended the official opening almost two months ago on the astrologically significant day as decreed by the temple priests, but this weekend should see the first fee paying guests arrive. The last few days have been a frenzy of bed building, laying of tiles and random cleaning. Praveen, the project manager, has gone from just looking like the most worried man in Kerala to the most worried man in the sub-continent. The afternoons have been punctuated by the sound of disk cutters, cutting, grinding and putting the finishing touches to the building while he stands and checks things off a long list of things to do. Incidentally, i have no idea how anything got built in India before the invention of the disk cutter, its used for everything. The standard method of construction appears to be to cast a large slab of concrete then sculpt the building out of the block with a disk cutter. If there are any detailed drawings scheduling first and second fix I've never seen them being consulted, its an organic process of design and redesign on the hoof.

The decision to raise the swimming pool on stilts outside the front of the hotel was such an organic development, a last minute decision when they realised they didn't have enough car parking, a car park which at the moment appears to have now morphed into a restaurant, when they discovered they didn't have one in the original plan and the access road is too narrow anyway. It will be entertaining to see the look on the guests faces when they are sitting having a romantic meal and we open our kitchen window straight into their restaurant. Almost as entertaining as when they are lounging in their infinity pool on stilts looking out over the sea as Sarah suddenly appears, apparently floating in mid-air, pegging out our smalls on our roof. Ah, I can see the guests now, a glorious sunset scene, lazing in the high tech infinity pool, mojito in hand, quaint wooden fishing boats bobbing in the bay and slap bang in the middle my (once white) pants hanging from the line.

In essence typical Indian building, unbelievably beautiful, high tech, traditional and but for the lack of planning... a bit pants.

have a good weekend

K&S

Seeing the new stuff

They say travel broadens the mind, not sure who "they" are but "they" do have a point. It certainly makes you aware of difference and at its best makes you re-examine what you have taken as read. As a species we have thrived on spotting the difference, the new, the unexpected. In evolutionary terms i guess its from the need to not just see the familiar landscape but to see that there is now a tiger poking its nose out from behind the bush at the edge of the forest. We are not alone in taking in the world in this way, dragonflies with their massive compound eyes have a pixilated view of multiple images, its when one of those images changes, becomes different that they take note and react be it to avoid a leaf or catch a flying insect for lunch.

The world we live in is complex, chaotic, overwhelming; sights, sounds, smells, touch constantly and unrelentingly assault our senses. To make sense of what's important our brains have become expert in switching off our attention from the familiar, the understood and seeking out difference. Its a tricky job and how we react to new things will determine our ability to survive e.g. tiger spotted on the edge of the forest = run away, potential mate = hug. Get them the wrong way round and you are in a world of pain.

India assaults the senses like no other place I've been but after a while, even here the bizarre becomes common place. Deciding what to write about, what I or you will find interesting is a constant challenge as what I now take for granted you would be shocked or enthralled by.

Mostly its the little stuff, the day to day I find most interesting after all that's where we live most of our lives. Tales of how we deal with the common place, traffic, food, work, relationships, religion, living in a hot climate, keeping healthy. i could wax lyrical about the temples, the architecture, how the mists poured down the hills in Munnar, the way the setting sun sets the sea on fire but to be honest i'd never do them justice and there are myriad of travel books you could read that would do a far better job. So I stick to what i know and see, people going about their daily lives in a very different place to our little village on the edge of Dartmoor. The longer we are here its harder to do as its amazing how fast the "different" becomes the norm.

Take food, i know i keep going on about food but it is sooooo good here and so different to being at home. I know for some of you, and certainly for my mother, the thought of curried hard boiled egg first thing in the morning isn't a natural choice and when we got here neither was it for us. Now its almost unthinkable to start the day without perotta or dosas and a good egg masalla. Back home i struggle to achieve the 5 fruit and veg a day recommended and few meals are without some sort of meat or dairy, here i've usually hit the 5-a-day by lunch and the odd egg apart often go without meat for several days in a row. I can count the number of times i've had pork, lamb(goat) or  beef on the fingers of one hand and can honestly say i've not missed it. Its "different".

Expectations here are different too, the most obvious being  life expectancy, in 2011 it was  65.48 years compaired with 80.75 in England (for the information of those working in the NHS, the life expectancy in the US for the same time period was 78.6 years - still want to move to an American model of health and social care?). i.e just over 15 years less.

In terms of income and expectations the Times of India in Feb 2012 reported the Indian per capita income had risen to £533 per year, OK its a big country with over a billion people but to put it another way yesterday the Hindu published its business section, its a bit like the guardian jobs section. Here, out to national advert, are some of the best jobs one of which caught my eye. It was for a university librarian, the candidate must hold an MA in a relevant subject, be fully qualified and no more than 35 (age discrimination is allowed here, i didn't see a single job I could have applied for at 52 years old but if i was expected to peg it in 17 years not surprising, India is a young country). The starting salary was £70 per month pro rata. Oh and for those of you in the medical profession a specialist registrar in the government hospital gets less per month than a single Ddoc shift and full time works well in excess of the 48 hours max. just to add insult to injury the figure is reduced by 75% when you aren't needed or not working.

True living costs are lower, but the prices of all the consumer goods we in the west think are so vital to our lives aren't. At these salaries is it any wonder most of our call centres are in Mumbai or Bangalore, staffed in the main with graduates and post graduates?

Talking of call centres (and heading off on a tangent) pretty much everyone (and i'm not exaggerating) here has a mobile phone.  Its said India has skipped the industrial revolution and moved straight into the technological one. Even TATA India's manufacturing giant once a tea producer (and now owner of Jaguar Land Rover) is now moving into telecommunications having its own 3G enabled mobile network and looking to team up with SKY to take on satellite TV. Even small restaurants are expected to provide access to WiFi for their customers. If you are doubting India's technological prowess, it might be worth remembering they are a nuclear power with intercontinental missiles, they are in the process of designing a lunar rover to be deployed in the next few years and are the technical hub for many of the worlds biggest IT firms, in processing power they could give silicon valley a run for its money.

That said, yesterday I saw an old lady at the side of the road, I'd seen here many times before, almost part of the scenery, she is there most days, doing her job. Her job is simple, every morning a large granite bolder is delivered to her by truck, it must weigh several tonnes. Her tools are a lump hammer and a woven palm frond. She sits under the palm frond to keep the sun off her head and uses the hammer to chip away at the bolder to make gravel for the construction industry. probably there was a similar old lady employed to make gravel for India's ancient temples. A job a thousand years away from the hi-tech multinational air conditioned glass palaces of Bangalore.

I guess "difference" is everywhere and i never fail to be amazed by it, but sometimes its things that stay the same, things we no longer see through familiarity that we should question.

Enjoy the weekend

K&S
24/1/14

A Road Trip to Munnar (2)

Picking up where I left off, the hotel was rather nice, perched on the side of the hill looking out over the valley the view down to the paddi fields below and up to the mist shrouded hill tops magical. (if you are genuinely interested you can have a peak here http://www.thewindmunnar.com/) Apprently the hotel had only opened the previous year and the rooms spacious and modern. It was ranked #1 on TripAdvisor so we were in for a treat, or so we thought. We woke at dawn to watch the sun rise at one end of the valley and a full moon set behind the mountains at the other, stunning.

There was just one problem, apart from the tuk tuk ride down the cliff that is, the service. Don't get me wrong, the staff were all smiles and eager to please, just clueless, perhaps the best illustration was breakfast.

As usual i ordered masala dosa, coffee, and juice. Sarah ordered scrambled eggs on toast (having given up trying to explain what poached meant) juice and lemon honey and hot water as she doesn't do caffeine. I should have known by the fixed smile, wobble of the head and panicked eyes the waiter had no idea what we had ordered. After 30 mins I popped my head in the kitchen to be shooed out with assurances that it was "coming". Sure enough 10 mins later two glasses of pineapple juice arrived, followed after another ten minutes by a basket of toast (which was sent back by us to be toasted) and reappeared another 10 minutes later. Sarah's eggs arrived next which she ate so they wouldn't get cold. 15 mins after she had eaten her eggs a smiling waiter popped out of the kitchen to ask if we had enjoyed breakfast. I calmly (honestly, i was too gob smacked to get angry) pointed out I hadn't had any and where were my dosas? "Dosa... Coming..."

Breakfast took just over 90 mins, we had effectively eaten alone taking it in turn to watch the other one eat.

Our driver hadn't had much luck either, he had slept in the car and by morning was rather cold so he popped down to the local chai wallah for a warming cup of sweet milky tea only to be told black tea only... a cobra had bitten the chai wallahs cow which had died. We should have taken it as an omen.

Once we had managed to escape from breakfast we jumped into the taxi ready for a day of sight seeing, the tea gardens, Munnar town, elephant camp, floral gardens, the Tea Museum and the National Park. Here's my thoughts and ratings.

The Tea Gardens 8/10
Tea Gardens in India are different to the ones at home in England, no cast iron chairs and tables, parasols, clotted cream or Victoria sponge just thousands and thousands of neatly trimmed camellia bushes stretching for miles and miles up ludicrously steep hills, looking like a real life set from the telly tubbies. Watching the tea pickers work was fascinating they actually do look like the picture on the PG Tips box. I could bore you with the difference between white, black and green tea, the different grades from dust to tips but if you are that interested i suggest you look it up (I'd probably get it confused anyway).

Munnar Town 3/10
All the charm of a long distance lorry park being used for a car boot sale. Its one of the few places that have banished plastics in an attempt to deal with the rubbish problem, there are signs up and everything.... but as out taxi driver said "They are only words". We have been coming to India for 8 years now and it ranks as our least favourite place, maybe its the contrast with the beauty of the hills but it really is an ugly town.

Elephant Camp 4/10
If you love seeing elephants being made to perform for the public this is for you, but not for us.

Floral Gardens 6/10
Nice flowers, think B&Q bedding plants on a may day bank holiday with a few Tesco orchids thrown in.

Tea Museum 8/10
Interesting, in fact more interesting than I'd expected. History of Munnar as a tea town with a nice video presentation.

National park
Abandoned - decided to call it a day and return to the hotel as we had another 10 hour journey back to Kovalam the next morning

The return trip was uneventful, no one died, i got to eat a beef thalli meal (I think it was made from the hoof of the cow killed by the cobra) but thats all really.

In short, the hills are worth a look but not worth a special trip to see them, go when you are in the area going to Alappuzha or Kochi. Munnar town is a dump and don't rely on TripAdvisor ratings as your sole reference when picking your hotel.

So now we are back in 34+C heat, swimming every day in blue seas and eating great food. The trip had done just what we needed, reminded us how much we like living here.

K&S

p.s. We also visited a Hydroelectric dam, Echo point and a Pharmacy to get some Listerine, the Pharmacy was the high point.

A Road Trip to Munnar, (Part 1)

Well hello there, we are back from our 3 day trip to Munnar and as promised here's what went on.


Not long after new year Tom and Lauren came to stay with us for a few days as part of their holiday here in India, they had had a few days in Mumbai, a few in Goa and then flew down to Kerala to spend some time with us. It was great to see them, we caught up on the "real world" and had some great meals but they had gone back and left us feeling a bit flat so we decided we also needed a holiday. We looked at the flights to Dubai, Sri Lanka and even Thailand and though cheaper than flying from the UK were still more than we wanted to pay for a short break. So, we decided to go on what my mother would call "an adventure" here in Kerala. But where? Ruth, Sarah's 2nd cousin is due to join us in four weeks time for a couple of weeks, her first trip to India, so no doubt she will want to do one or more of the usual destinations e.g. House Boat, Sleeper to Madurai etc. so where to go? Since new year the temperature has been steadily rising averaging 34 C in the shade so we decided to head for the hills to Munnar.

Munnar is a hill station, a small town 1600 m above sea level in the Western Ghats i.e at the top right hand tip of Kerala. It's famous for its tea gardens and according to the travel info set in stunning scenery, lush and green, oh and cool. Its where the Raj went  when it got a bit too warm for comfort. According to Google maps its a 5-6 hour journey by car so doable. I consulted TripAdvisor and found the top rated hotel and found it to be reasonable (for a treat and couple of days holiday) at £45 per night and the taxi for three days inc. driver was £120 i.e we would be only moderately ripped off by Indian Tourist Rates. So we booked it.

We packed our bag for the frozen north as at night the temperature was predicted to crash to the mid teens i.e. 16 C at night and no higher than 28 C in the day, positively cold, and to make the most of the day were picked up at 7 a.m. by our driver. We made ourselves comfy(ish) for the drive and then were told the journey would take 10 hours and not the 6 as predicted by Google. 10 hours on good Indian roads is no joke, when half the journey is on one track mountain roads its a nightmare. I adopted a fixed grin and settled back to the joy of feeling like I was being kicked up the arse by a man with hobnail boots for the entire trip.

A little about Indian main roads, mostly they are three lanes wide, not that they are supposed to be, they just work out that way. There is one lane in each direction, sort of, and the informal bus or lorry lane which runs down the white line in the centre. This is the "Lane of Death" with traffic traveling at break neck speed simultaneously in either direction. its also where you have to go to overtake. (NB. overtaking should preferably be done on blind bends, over bridges or when the road narrows, at least that's how it feels. Apparently when Fast and Furious was shown here no one could understand what was the problem as it appeared to be about a few mates taking a Sunday drive).

Fortunately we had a good driver, but he did have one rather disturbing habit. He was a devout christian not a problem in itself but every few hundred yards there was a roadside shrine or church (some no doubt commemorating the last major accident, where someone had gone off a cliff or ploughed into oncoming traffic) and he insisted on taking his hands off the wheel to bless himself as we passed, three cars abreast at 60 mph with a sheer drop on one side and a 40 tonne truck heading straight for us on the other.

However, after 10 hours of bum numbing, white knuckle ride through some truly beautiful mountain roads with spectacular cliff views (which I saw all too close for my liking) we finally arrived at our hotel. Well not quite "at the hotel" near would be more accurate. The 1.5km drive down to the hotel, which was perched on the side of the hill, was being repaired so our taxi couldn't get us all the way there. The repairs were "interesting" at the top of the single track drive a 5m x 25m concrete slab was being laid and further down to save concrete two concrete tracks had been made one for each wheel, the center of the road being large hardcore rubble, no doubt to help with drainage in rainy season. After a long long drive walking down the hill with our bags was not going to be fun. We shouldn't have worried the hotel had arranged transport to get us from the slab to reception and were sending the vehicle up to meet us. A nice touch. Then it arrived. A tuk tuk. If you are unfamiliar with this mode of transport, there is one defining thing which describes a tuk tuk. They have 3 wheels. A two track road with hard core down the middle is not an ideal road surface for a tuk tuk and after 10 hours on death defying roads with a driver who felt the need to take is hands off the wheel everytime we passed a depiction of the Madonna or a cross whilst heading into oncoming traffic on a mountain pass we nearly ended up at the bottom of a cliff 300 meters from the hotel as the front wheel jammed into a large rock in the middle of the track.

At this point i remember shouting something like "Jesus H Christ!!!" as the tuk tuk reared up then set itself down on the road with inches to spare... Maybe the driver had got it right.

Harvest Festival, A Fishy Orgy & Chicken Offal Curry

Wednesday 15th Jan 2014

from the last blog you will know yesterday was Pongal (Harvest Festival) here in Southern India, the date varies as its defined by the full moon, at bit like Easter. It was a joyous affair, the Mosque was decorated with miles of bunting stretched out from the minaret  to the surrounding coconut trees to form  a canopy of green flags which fluttered and bobbed in the light breeze.

Music blared out from a bank of speakers which had appeared on the car park at the end of our road not long after dawn prayers had finished at the mosque and there was an air of festival excitement building. As at home on bank holidays the morning had started with rain but unlike home by 10:00 the clouds had burnt back to revel a blue sky.  It was obviously a big day , all the kids were off from school and were running around with big smiles on their faces. 2013's monsoon had been good and it was a good harvest.

From our balcony we watched the crowds build men, women and children all obviously out for a good time. What happened next took us by surprise as the women and children all began to head towards the mosque carrying buckets and containers, initially i thought they might contain the usual harvest festival donations of tins of fruit cocktail or salmon but they were empty.

Here, as we found out later, the custom is for the mosque to give rice to the community and the women were all queuing up for their share.

Next a troop of dancers, all boys this was a Muslim celebration, appeared dressed not unlike morris men at home complete with tambourines and sticks adorned with tassels and proceeded to delight the crowd with what i can only describe as a cross between energetic morris and line dance made all the more impressive in the now noon day heat and the whole community had turned out to watch. Muntaz and Ali who own our apartment and live on the ground floor below us were there and tried to explain what was going on, no doubt some was lost in translation but it was great fun to watch.

As the dancers finished their final dance we headed off for the beach only to discover it covered with dead fish. What kind of eco disaster were we looking at? pollution? some deep sea trawler dumped its by-catch just off shore? I was seriously concerned until i noticed they were all the same species of fish, all about the same size and had a curious hollowed out look to them. Then the penny dropped, we weren't looking at a scene of death and devastation but one of birth and renewal, it was a mass spawning triggered by last nights full moon. The fish had accomplished their goal and now spent had died and been washed up on the shore. Impressive but all part of life and death's cycle, even if a bit smelly until the crows and jackdaws had cleared them away.

On our return home Muntaz appeared with several bowls and containers, she had prepared a havest meal and wanted us to share in the day. Pilao rice, coconut and lentil sambal, a meat curry, raita and popodums. It was delicious or it was until i began exploring the meat curry. Don't get me wrong ir was delicious and made from chicken (I'd noticed the the number of chickens in Muntaz's yard had fallen by one but that was OK, that was what they were there for and made it an even more auspicious meal) it was what i discovered that made me squeamish. An un-laid egg. In India, chicken curry means it has chicken in it, this can entail anything from breast and leg to liver, heart , kidneys in fact anything which is edible. I realise that protein here is expensive (relatively) and if you are going to kill one of the birds you have feed and nurtured you want to make sure nothing and i mean nothing goes to waste but I'm afraid my inner western Waitrose shopper rebelled. As far as chicken offal goes i draw the line at chicken liver. It was a truly lovely thought on her part and after careful forensic examination of the rest of the curry i managed to eat enough to show gratitude. It was after all - delicious.

Tomorrow we are off to Munnar for 2 -3 days  a tea town in the hills a 5 - 6 hour drive. According to my Weather App its cold up there, at night the temperature crashing to 16 C and day temp scarcely rising to 28 C. I'm considering taking a onesie for nights and a fleece for the day time.

I'll let you know how i managed in the cold when we get back.

Oh well Dosas are calling.... then off to the beach.

Have a good day

K&S

So that was 2013... Happy Pongal

So 2014 has been here for two weeks now and as its raining this morning, the second time in two months, I thought it would be a good idea to take a moment to look back on the year, a year of change and new beginnings for us. Today is Pongal, the Tamil celebration of Harvest a time to reflect and give thanks so its an appropriate time to think about our year. It hasn't always been an easy year but one where we decided to get out of the rat race and enjoy life, to see and do new things and be kinder to ourselves. In short to learn how to play and take pleasure from living without feeling guilty or asking if we deserved it.

The NHS reorganisation though traumatic gave us permission to examine what we wanted from life, how far we had come and if we wanted to continue doing what we had always done. I have no doubt if i'd wanted I could have found some other role in the emerging organisations but did I really want to spend the next eight years of my life chasing the latest wonderkid's vision of healthcare, a rehashing of initiatives and not so new ideas, watching organisations torn between local accountability and centrally controlled economies of scale?
Worse still jumping to address the latest Daily Mail statistical scandal, written by an innumerate journalist. e.g. "Did you know that just under 50% of care provided in the NHS is below average? Something MUST be done!!!" Statistically correct, and totally meaningless.

Nah... not for me or Sarah, so if you want to know in detail what happened (and have an hour or so to kill) read the back issues in the blog.

Also realising we had spent most of our adult lives being what we thought others expected us to do or be was an important turning point for us. Time to be us. So, I took early retirement, Sarah quit her job and here we are spending the winter in sunnier climes, something we intend to do for as long as we can, as long as our health holds and as long as we can afford it.

There have been some unexpected changes too, one of the reasons Sarah loves India is her love of Yoga, strangely, though she still practices regularly, its a much smaller part of her life now compared to her time back home in Devon. I haven't discussed it with her yet, in fact its only just occurred to me but I think when she was working it was her refuge from the day to day. Or perhaps "time for her", time which she now has in abundance. In the 12 weeks or so we have been here i've lost about a couple of stone in weight (aka blubber). I've not been ill or dieted, just eating better, more fish, fruit and veg, very very little red meat and stop when i'm full. I feel healthier and fitter than I have for a long time.

At its heart Kovalam is still a small village and in that not that different to Sticklepath, we are greeted most mornings by the coconut seller as we head of the beach with a cheery wave, locals smile at us as they go about their daily business of extracting money from the tourists, hawkers say good morning and pass the time of day (usually about the weather or moaning about the lack of tourists) rather than trying to sell us their goods. Don't get me wrong I'm not so gullible that I think we are now Kovalamites, rather like in Devon we will always be incomers, we occupy a place between potential source of income and locals.

We haven't become part of the ex-pat community, though there is one, they tend to sit in the same bars and restaurants at sunset watching the world go by. I think the fact we are based away from lighthouse beach in our own apartment has played a part in this and the fact most of our friends here are Indian. True, its fun from time to time to catch up on a trip one of them has had to Thailand or up to Goa but they aren't part of our world and neither are we part of theirs and have no desire to sit moaning about life in the UK or drinking our selves into oblivion which seems to be the course many take.

Back home, when we first considered retiring and moving to India for the winter it felt so decadent a thing to do that we needed to justify our good luck by immediately hurling ourselves into "good works" and talked about working for an NGO here full time. We have the skills and experience to help and had previously had established a relationship with a local social enterprise organisation, giving kids a second chance in education, improving health and social care and improving the choices for the local community in particular women. Back in April, on our previous trip, we even went as far as discussing it with the NGO's founder and he was keen to have us. Sarah was to work as a teachers's assistant and I was to work with their project director on social enterprise/project development. When we got back to the UK we began to have second thoughts, we were at risk of swapping one high pressured environment for another and one rat race for another.

When i was at King's Fund i remember a lecture on how certain people are attracted to intractable problems, according to the lecturer a common trait in NHS staff i.e. we are draw to occupations and jobs which are difficult and exact a personal cost, a perversion of "no gain without pain" in the end at a subconscious level its the pain endured rather than the gains made which define us and justify our existence. "Look at me, I must be a good person, look how much what i'm doing hurts me, how brave am I!" of course this mantra is chanted at a subconscious level and never spoken out loud as to fully demonstrate just how saintly we have become requires stoicism. There are lots of serious folk in the NHS carrying around two wooden posts and a bag of nails, long hours, always playing email, writing endless briefing notes, on call, etc. I know, I was one of them. The difficult part was putting them down and unless we were very careful we were about to take a set to India.

Independently we both discussed our plans and concerns with our therapists, both had the same advice, in short. Make no decisions during the first year you can't back out of, learn to play and enjoy yourselves. Heresy!!! But they were right. One of the hardest emails i have ever had to write was to the NGO telling them we were taking a year out to be well, enjoy life and consider our options. I needn't have worried, the email response was fully supportive and understanding of our decision, a sign we were dealing with the right people.

So here we are, just enjoying being, typically my day starts at about 6:30 with freshly ground coffee, a cigarette (I haven't given up yet but its on the cards, when I'm ready) and an hour or so reading the paper, unless the cricket is on from Australia in which case its a hour or two of watching England self destruct before breakfast.

Breakfast is usually at the local Tea Shop, dosas or perotta with a hard boiled egg, onion masalla and sambal. Delicious and freshly cooked to order.

Next the beach, for a few hours reading (my reading habits have changed dramatically, I now alternate classics with trash, before it was mostly Scandinavian thrillers now its far more eclectic) listening to whatever takes my fancy on the iPod or a play on the radio (God bless Radio 4 Extra on demand on the interweb), a swim or bounce in the sea when it gets a bit warm and watching non-swimming fully clothed Indians get hurled up the sand by the surf.

Lunch is usually dhal, a chapatti or two and some fruit served by Shiva on the beach (the restaurant behind the beach delivers for those of us who can't be arsed to get of our sunbeds).

Back to the apartment by 2-3pm for a shower and snooze.

Evenings are spent either going to a restaurant if we are hungry and haven't planned to eat in (i.e. couldn't be bothered with shopping for onions tomatoes or some other such stuff) or maybe watching a film on the TV or computer with some fruit and cashew nuts.

Bed time is anywhere between 8:30 and midnight (film and temperature dependant).

Obviously we don't do this every day, just most days, time to participate in thinking or not as the day goes. Pure indulgence, enjoying playing and having fun.

This year the harvest was a good one, a stormy start but it produced riches like no other, I'm looking forward to 2014 but for now just being is more than enough.

Happy Pongal

K&S

New Years Eve - A night I'm still trying to remember

New Year's Eve in Kovalam was absolutely spectacular at least the bits i can remember, its now 8 a.m. on the 2nd and I'm still feeling drunk.

As we had been told proceedings on the beach can get a bit frenzied we had decided to go to a very posh five star hotel do for the night at the Vivanta by Taj (look it up on TripAdvisor, its a popular honeymoon destination, all infinity pools and spa treatments). The theme of the night was "White Nights" and we all had to turn up in white. Sarah had duly spent Monday traipsing around Trivandrum for a dress and looked stunning in her Indian dress, i had a pair of white linen trousers and shirt on. We definitely looked the part as we headed out at 7:30 tickets in hand (£90 per couple, all food and drink included) for a civilized end to 2013, at least that was the plan.

The party was on the edge of the beach, a stage had been erected where various entertainments were promised, multiple marque tents erected for the lavish buffet and three bars for the 300+ participants a mix of hotel guests, local glitterati and tourists from around the world and us.

The first part of the evening was compered by an irritating bubbly Indian lass (think the love child of Timmy Mallet and Tony Blackburn and you will get the picture). Her job was to fill the gaps between performers with "fun games" and general hilarity. This was the point at which I made my first mistake of the night, i made friends with the bar manager, we got on like a house on fire as he singled us out for "special service" and my Bacardi and Cokes went from a 2:5 to a 5:2 mix.

Things went rather quickly from that point, we watched a troup of Mongolian dancers (very good), a Russian belly dancer (not so good), traditional Keralan song and dance (excellent) and enjoyed the extensive buffet.

It was during one of the comperes hilarious games I went looking for another table for us to sit at, one with a "bit of life". Unfortunately i found it, table 69. On which were Kiwi's, South Africans, French, Indians and a lad from Sri Lanka who was already looking totally lost. I had managed to find the only rugby table in the whole of Kerala. We moved to join them and were greeted warmly with the announcement they were all going to the bar as their waiter had abandoned them i.e took their last order, looked at them long and hard then ran off. These were our kind of people.

An hour or so later I remember trying to teach an enthusiastic but bemused Sri Lankan the words and moves to swing low sweet chariot, Sarah was trying to get the Indian off with a rather nice Russian girl, the French guy was running the buffet, the Maori lining up shots on the bar, and the South African lass explaining to me why white men should never try to dance.

We celebrated the arrival of 2014 on the dance floor which time we had been adopted by a Russian family whose daughter was getting married to an Indian. Her farther was a cross between an early Meatloaf and a Mafia hitman and amazingly was even more drunk than the rest of us. This would have been fine if this didn't mean we now had another new year to celebrate in half an hour, Moscow time. At about 1:30 (neither of us can be exact about the time) and far too many toasts later we decided to head home. I decided we were far too drunk to walk the 1 km along the beach so we got a tuk tuk.

Things went down hill from there rather rapidly.

There is no direct route from the hotel to our apartment so the tuk tuk had to head inland about 2km before the run down to the apartment. At which point the motion of the tuk tuk, the smell of the diesel fumes, the rogan josh, mango ice cream, biriyani, Bacardi and Coke, vodka, indian champagne all combined to produce what Sarah describes as the most spectacular demonstration of projectile vomit she has ever seen, and certainly rivaled the earlier firework display, right over the tuk tuk drivers head.

Needless to say we now had a 2 km walk home. Most of this is a blur but at some point i decided to throw away my shirt and destroyed my white linen trousers.by falling over in the Hindu Temples car park at the bottom of our drive. Fortunately Ganesh loves a piss head and we made it home.

All in all it was the most disgraceful and best New Years Eve I can't remember....

Happy 2014

K&S