I’ve been in Goa for two bloody weeks and I tell you what, if I ever see a coconut again it’ll be too soon. I’ve not stopped sweating; even now I’m sitting a little bit drunk alone on the terrace and my arms are so wet I could fist a cow. Goodness, fist a cow? Where did that come from? Nevermind, we’ve no time to turn back now. So yeah, I’m ready to leave Goa and start travelling again. In Rajasthan I craved company and parties, but now I’ve been here a while with plenty of both, I’m ready to go solo and begin learning again. Continue reading
travel writing
India: Goan Whirpool
I’ve had the time of my life and I’m filled with both the desperate longing for it to continue and the bittersweet reality that it’s almost over. Goa has been wonderful to me. It took me a few days to adjust to the humidity and for the guilt over doing nothing all day to abate, but after one week here I feel at home. Continue reading
India: Slums and Heatstroke
I’m getting way behind on these diaries now – I’m writing about the Jodhpurian desert as I’m sitting in the Goan jungle. But I’ll try and condense things. Continue reading
India: Bollywood Stars Pt. 2 (Stabbed by Amitabh Bachchan)
At 5 we gathered outside the old lady’s house and met a few other westerners who’d been picked out. I was the only Englishman, and we’d been told we’d be playing British soldiers – being killed. My great grandad on my dad’s side was stationed in Danapur in eastern India for seven years, which is an odd thought. Continue reading
India: Bollywood Stars Pt.1
Breakfast in the morning was as breakfast has been most days: cereal, samosas, a fuck ton of chai and a pensive cigarette on the balcony with James. We met the Colombian guy, Sammy, in the morning, and our quartet decided to explore together for the day. And man, what a day. Continue reading
India: Cold Sands
sI woke up in the desert, breathing in fresh morning air. I sat up in bed and looked around. The others were all a-slumber, expect for Papu, who was quietly making breakfast. He waved at me from across the dune, grinning. Continue reading
India: Burping Camels and the Desert Starlight
After the horrid horrid bus ride, we grabbed our bags and climbed down from the bus into the scrum of jostling tuk tuk hawkers. I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring people since being here. It helps you get along; when there’s a billion people you just can’t give everybody the time of day. Continue reading
India: The Hellbus
My fourth day in Udaipur was spent doing glorious beautiful wonderful nothing. Two weeks into my trip, and I was feeling exhausted. Heat and booze and a constant flurry of new faces and the ever-looming dread of food poisoning, which has ravaged literally every single person I’ve met bar me, all conspire to leave me absolutely knackered. I spent a half hour in the morning doing yoga on the rooftop with Sandeep, and then happily committed myself to a blissful day of fuck all. Continue reading
India: The Cleanest Lake in Rajasthan, Honest
I’m writing these a few days behind, so some days are a little trickier to recall. However, as far as memory serves, I spent most of my second morning in Udaipur doing very little, apart from nursing a hangover on the terrace. As time has gone on I’ve found exhaustion setting in; I’ve gotten lazier and lazier in the intense heat, and when you’re shattered in the first place, it quickly becomes a huge task to simply get up, get dressed, and leave the relative serenity of the hostel for the rapture of the streets. Continue reading
India: Elephants with Swords
In the morning I had breakfast on the terrace, sitting alone with my laptop to write. I’ve been smoking a lot in India purely because there’s a large amount of sitting around in the sun or gazing out at majestic views, and they go together nicely. I asked an Indian guy a few across for a cig, and he handed me one smiling. A few moments later he came over to me and introduced himself, and asked to join me. He told me his name was far too long for a western tongue to pronounce, and told me everybody called him Prax. Continue reading