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
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. 