Today has been a transit day, mostly, but that’s not to say it hasn’t been silly fun. I got up at 10 and had eggs on toast for breakfast on the balcony and chatted to the Argentinian girls. Showered and dressed, and realised that the reason I’ve been having freezing cold showers for the past week is that the hot and cold taps have been put on the bloody wrong way around. Continue reading
Every day in this country is insane and the further I travel the more absurd it gets. I love it.
Dave has been in Delhi this whole time, doing god knows what, and he messaged me last night to say he’d be arriving in Jaipur at midnight. I left a note with Sid at reception for Dave, telling him hello and that if he tried waking me I would fucking shank him. I spoke to Sid in the morning and asked if Dave had arrived, and he said yes, four hours late, and that they smoked hash together sitting on the floor. I said yes, that sounds very much like Dave. Continue reading
It was the morning after the strangeness of the night before – and India doesn’t let up, man. I woke up late. I’ve been sleeping in most days until 10am because, well, why not? I’m on holiday. I like exploring, but I want to go slow. It’s so hot and mad here that if you tried to keep to the same pace of sightseeing as people manage in Europe, you’d explode. Buying breakfast in the morning is lunacy. Taking a shower is a quest. Getting a beer is a fucking odyssey. Continue reading
Got up in Agra at 6am because I had a bus to Jaipur booked for 7.30 with two guys I met the previous evening, James from Auckland, New Zealand and Jonas from Copenhagen, Denmark. I told Jonas I know Denmark pretty well but he wasn’t particularly interested. Nobody ever is. Perhaps I should stop using it as an ice breaker with Danish people. Perhaps. Continue reading
I woke up in Agra at 5am, to visit the Taj. I skipped showering and it was cool outside, and I felt cold for the first time in India. I set out with two girls from my dorm whose names I either never learned or forgot. They were American and had been travelling for years. A lot of people I’ve met this country have been on the road for a year or more; it seems India is somewhere you only really hit up if you’ve got at least a little bit of backpacking know-how. I’m glad I do – the culture shock of India without a warm up in Vietnam and Cuba would have been bone-shattering. Continue reading
Woke up hungover and dehydrated yet again. Hangovers are always worse in hot countries because you sweat all your water out in the night and your liver has a nightmare. I usually wake up just as drunk as I went to bed. Got showered and dressed and ate something from the hostel kitchen – I forget the name but it was an Indian wrap and it was astoundingly delicious. Continue reading
Alright, I’m reasonably sober and fed and hydrated now. So, before I jump into the narrative of what’s gone on, let me first list interesting things I have found in Indian culture: Continue reading
Don’t even know where to begin. I’m sitting in the living room of my hostel and it’s 30 degrees and my train to Agra leaves in a couple of hours, and I’m gunna have to go get a tuk tuk to the station because it’s impossible to walk anywhere in this city. Continue reading
It’s all so close, goodness me, it’s all so very close now. I can almost smell the runway tarmac. I can almost taste the soggy airport sandwiches. I can almost hear the grating rumble of 20-something girls insisting on dragging their miniscule suitcases over the cobbled ground– PICK IT UP FOR FUCK’S SAKE SARAH IT WEIGHTS ABOUT 15 GRAMS MY GOD –I can almost see the rooftops of Berlin shrinking majestically below me.
So I’m flying to Delhi on the 1st of March. My last day at work is the 23rd of February. Back to the UK for two nights to bid loved ones farewell and drop off any shit I don’t want to inevitably lose on the road, then a quick return to Berlin for two days of goodbye-ing, then away. That’s the plan as far as you know it thus far. I have since planned in a tad more detail. Continue reading
It’s the 19th of February, and these dairies have been running on for 18 months now. They’ve become less frequent, sure, partly because I’ve got used to life in the city and therefore am less inspired to write a 3000 word dirge fresh off the heels of yet another evening’s ketamine and kebab consumption, and also partly because I have, through no fault of my own (honest) been drunk a LOT. We’re not talking Oliver Reed or Shane MacGowan levels of astoundingly ever-twatted, there’s no need to worry, but certainly enough booze quaffed over a 6 month period to reopen Bärenquell Brauerei for a long weekend. Continue reading