For anyone who has read our blog from the beginning, this title could either mean I’m having nightmares, or I’ve gone mental. It probably also means I’m reading the novel, Rebecca.
It’s neither. And I’m not. I’m reading a much less cultured book, and a magazine. Read the rest of this entry
Did I wear the wrong colours? Were my loose fitting clothes not loose enough? Should my clothes have been so loose they fell down? Should I have stood further away from Tim? Should I have stood closer to him? Should I have covered my head even though the local women didn’t? Should I have embraced the attention and pinched their bottoms…. actually that would probably work.
These are just a few of the questions I asked myself as I travelled around India. Read the rest of this entry
“You’re in India” we’re told everyday. “And everything is possible in India!”
Hearing this on every train, in every shop and at every guesthouse used to make us smile. It’s such a positive sentiment. Unfortunately, every time we ask a question here we get a contradicting sentence…
“Can we book a train from Delhi to Jaisalmer?”
“Can we connect to the free wifi you advertise?”
“Can I have this cup of tea for the same price as everyone else in this restuarant rather than the extortionate 300 rupees (£6) you’re trying to charge me?”
“Not possible”. Read the rest of this entry
Time is up and we’re now at the airport in Chennai, waiting for our flight to Bangkok. In the month that we’ve been here we’ve eaten our way through approximately 300 tablespoons of Ghee, 600 table spoons of Cream and tons of yoghurt. We’ve gorged on paneer, tucked in to Indian sweets and nibbled on strange fried things that we haven’t much cared for (as well as some we loved). Read the rest of this entry
Tim would probably tell you that the number one, golden rule would be don’t let Gemma in the kitchen. Definitely not near the gas. And probably not near any utensils… even the spoons.
But he’s wrong.
I am a culinary wiz… as I’m sure Raj (of Raj’s Cookery School in Palolem) would tell you. In fact you can see just how talented I am in this video. Read the rest of this entry
Beads of sweat trickle from my forehead and over my nose. I open my mouth slightly. Only slightly mind because if I open it too much I might exert energy from the wrong part of my body. And the other end needs all the energy I have left. I taste the salt from the beads of sweat and this keeps me going. Oh god, here it comes…
My eyes are forced shut as another part of my body is forced open, wider than it ever has been before, straining out more of last night’s dinner than I could possibly have eaten. Surely. Surely there can be no more? My stomach cramps and I get a head rush. I can’t see. I’ve gone blind. Oh. God. Read the rest of this entry
I grew out of computer games at quite a young age – Final fantasy was too much effort, resident evil was terrifying and the sims is like watching Eastenders without the suspense of not knowing what’s going to happen. I have nothing against computer games, I just prefer life… Although now I think of it, I did like my Comadore 64.
But there is one game I’ve always liked. Grand Theft Auto. For anyone who doesn’t know, Grand Theft Auto is a bit like real life… only cooler, faster, more violent and with more swearing. Read the rest of this entry
For me arriving on Palolem beach was like hearing the announcement that women can vote. Freedom. All of a sudden, my time of feeling insignificant was over. I was finally spoken to, I felt confident walking places on my own, I even bared those shoulders. It was emancipation at its finest.
I understand now how this kind of ecstasy (not the naughty kind) leads to bra burning. It’s not that I didn’t understand the elation of finally getting equality, more that I didn’t understand why the bras had to go? For me a bra is comforting, practical and for the more ample ladies a back-saver. But never before have I felt so liberated to be wearing a bikini.
This liberated feeling led to several days lazing on the beach and a number of 241 cocktails. Still we were experiencing the culture, really we were…. Read the rest of this entry
Like most countries India seems to consist of the rich, the working classes and the poor. But sadly that’s not where it ends. The rich in India can be sub-catgorised into the rich and the super-rich, and the poor can be divided into the poor and the super-poor.
And then there are the invisibles. Read the rest of this entry