Day 7- toast

The day began with sticky banana, french toast and curry. It was nothing but colourful. I also answered the waiter with’pardon’ five times, before we both agreed it was better that we didn’t try to understand what each other were saying.

We had a long journey today, four hours in our wacky races style bus. The key to travelling on roads in India is not to look.

We stopped at a roadside hamlet, with just a small snack shop. Amazingly, the women on the bus managed to find a saree shop, and spent a short while buying yet more things to make their kitbags swell. We also briefly toured a rubber plantation, stepping over a familiar type of poop.

Today we would be getting onto the houseboat. I have done this before, so I could feel very cocky about it. We were split into two groups, the ones that liked beer and the ones that did not. Their sofas look better than ours, but they were jealous of our balcony, not realising it was just like a community centre up there.

At lunch, we chatted about Uganda and I made my mouth raw with lime pickle. I also tackled river fish for the first time. With a fork, not a net. We stopped at the town later, and I experimented with rose milk and bought more mix (Bombay mix). We also blanked any fellow Europeans en route.

Later on the boat, we pulled up alongside the drinking boat, and to our alarm every single women was dancing. It didn’t take Ruth long to get on the boat and do a Beyoncé, as her limbs went in all directions. I hit behind a pillar. Dancing is not my thing.

I then alighted the boat for a beard trim, in an Indian barbershop. Some people though I was taking my life into my own hands. But I was happy with the finished result, regardless of the moustache he left. Are moustaches sacred in India?

Day 8- tropics

This was our last day, so we had breakfast on the houseboat, marvelled at more of the wildlife and I took some smart time-lapse video.

We were then in the bus again, but soon stopped in a small town where we were allowed to go rogue. Rather get dragged into another saree shop, I split from the women, and went to find onion bhajis. I also chatted to many of the stallholders about their spices, learning nothing.

Once we arrived at the hotel, we realised it was nigh on in paradise. It’s easy to drop the ball in these places, and brush your teeth with the tap water, but you must still be careful. I had a hammock in my mini garden, and I sit here writing the blog now whilst I contemplate getting tangled up in it.

It was the evening for our celebration meal. I pulled out all the stops and made my hair very greasy and black, and wore a dhoti, and Indian men’s skirt. I needed help to put this on, and it fell off by the time I got back to my room in the evening.

It was a fantastic evening, and I got the award for being amazing, or I might have made that part up! This had been a brilliant trip, with much camaraderie, despite the lack of testosterone!!

More pictures and anecdotes are sure to follow!

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