Doubt

Am I becoming inane? It would help if blogger had a vote but I don't trust small sample sizes

My neighbour's food is tastier

While we may associate India with Indian food, Indians seem quite keen on Chinese food. More expensive restaurants are keen to advertise their selection of 'Chinese' dishes. In fact this was the first boast of the chef I met in Krishnagiri. Bulk food shops have a wide selection of noodles, hey I don't know maybe there is some tradition of noodles in India. Of course I have also had an Indian explain that Manchurian is an Indian style... the food is kind of a hybrid. I feel I'm not quite getting the cultural experience when I fall back to my usual protein staple (egg fried rice with extra egg) - the standard condiment seems to be tomato ketchup.

The Food Situation, part...

So as is my custom which I stubbornly stick to, I tip at the nicer veg restaurants. It makes sense to me at least, as I'm starting to get boring and return to the same restaurant. Most Indians don't seem to tip, except for some strange custom regarding lodges. In Krishnagiri this worked well, I get perfect service and they even rotate the staff to keep it fair. (I'm easy to spot but there are probably only 2 or 3 westerners in town). Not working so well in Thiruvannamalai. I now get three waiters who all come to the table to fight over who takes my order. This is the trouble you cause if you leave a 12p tip.

Indian Style

So everywhere is noisy in India, mostly due to the thunder of buses and trucks, before they even use their horn(s). Yes buses sometimes have more than one horn, which can be used separately or in combination depending on the situation. My present solution is to stay in the cheapest noisiest hotel room... and sleep wearing 27dB health and safety standard earplugs

Moving on

Throwers lead a Hindu funeral procession, throwing flowers onto the road, followed by a crowd of mourners. The ox-drawn cart carrying the body is also decorated with flowers, and behind this all is left a trail of flowers in the road. It makes me feel sentimental, its a beautiful and, even I must admit, moving sight. Also it fits well with my own personal desire to be burned on a pyre, so let this stand as a statement of my wishes! (I vaguely remember the UK government being forced to accept this form of dispatch for religious reasons)

[edit] as this could potentially be costly, I should qualify this with: only if my remaining funds cover this treatment for my remaining remains. Otherwise let whichever nation work out what to do!

Conversation starters

One time friends seem compelled to tell me that I am very handsome. In fact this happened twice shortly after my waterfall shower. I'm not sure what to say, all I can manage is 'Oh', or a mumbled 'don't get that back home'. It's not like this is deep into a conversation, its one of the first few lines... is that a normal introduction? Its flattering sure but I'm getting wary of compliments from men in India...

Made it

I think I've made it. There is an amazing sense of freedom and adventure each time I set out on what turns out to be a trek. I can't describe it well (obviously). Its almost always unplanned, I just see a hill and think, right I might climb that, I will see what happens. Or perhaps just reading about a fort nearby and finding it free of other tourists. Its what I didn't want to write...

There are moments - communicating with a local with no common language and getting directed to follow a goat herd. He leads the goats calling "Bah, grrr, bah bah" and they run after. I follow him over the rim of the hills that surround yelagiri, and on the other side he gives a gesture on how to reach the village. I try and follow but I am quickly lost among the goat trails on the hillside. Yelagiri is a hill station and the route is mostly descending, but becomes too difficult - clearly made by goats alone. Rather than backtrack I just pick my own route. Away from the forest reserves nobody seems to pay much attention to where you walk

The landscape is beautiful, not too dry and mostly green with the odd red rocky outcrop. As I descend I have to meander increasingly over the hillside to avoid steep drops. A goat appears from the bushes slightly above me. It bleats for a while, watching me, and then moves on. The thorns return, every plant in this country has thorns, thorns on the leaves, thorns on the stems, trunk. Occasionally a plant has spines instead just to throw you. Soon my skin is cut and clothes are tearing and I am again locked in another bitter battle with dehydration. 2.5 liters of fluid was not enough... when will I learn!

Despite my aimless wandering my phone has started beeping (insert standard nokia sound). It has picked up the signal from the town I am trying to reach (Indian cell towers helpfully broadcast the location). After another few hours of crawling, shifting and sliding down the hillside I emerge into a road at the bottom, its been some 8 hours walking and I have barely stopped to take a photo... I swore to myself I would take it easy.

I'm looking for a waterfall in this village so I ask some locals 'temple' and they point further along the road. As is the custom in India at any beautiful spot there will be a temple. The waterfall does not disappoint though is used by the locals as a free bath so is covered in soap wrappers and such. The water falls from a fair height and is a bit more vigorous than most showers, verging on painful. As I'm quite dehydrated I drink some of the water... tastes damn good

Eeyore

I feel the people and animals who sleep in the road in India do so in the vague hope they might not have to carry on living. I have seen the most miserable horses and donkeys so far. Even people sleep with their heads just a short distance from the wheels of buses thundering by. Today a donkey slowly ate a piece of green cloth. I can best describe it with the words my empathy places in its mouth. 'Maybe I'll swallow it, maybe I will chew it all day long, maybe it will kill me, maybe it wont'

The pigs on the other hand love it. Its almost as if India was designed for them, abundant open sewers filled with buckets of tasty tasty waste. They root through the rubbish only disturbed by the dogs guarding their patch. Of course if anyone is stupid enough to eat pig in India they can never truly be sure if they are eating one of these lucky animals...