"Sorry umm where's the cyber cafe?"
Group of soldiers laugh.
"Upstairs sir."
"Cheers".
Three flights later........ kill. me. now.
I come out on to the roof and find a lovely and very much abandoned, solitary computer sitting without a keyboard and the screen kicked in. The soldiers had already left. I think I would have smacked one. Open hand.
Jumped on the train after splurging on a new copy of Angels & Demons to ease my anger with some simplistic catchy writing. I nearly fell off my sticky bunk in shock when we left on time.
People say India is like a collection of little countries all under one name. If that's true then the happenings inside the trains should be renamed ... Crazyland. Being the only westerner on the carriage I was interrogated for hours on subjects of my wife which I was suppose to have, my mother's surprising competence in being able to run a company as a woman and why I couldn't attend the greasy, shirtless old man's family diner the following evening.
Luckily I was rescued from his grubby claws and wavering, lonesome tooth about to fall out by the local lady boys that hopped on the carriage. Never had I seen anything in unison in India until then. Traffic never goes in a straight line, no one crosses cross walks together and you'll never see the same head bobble twice.
-----BUT! When those dudes in drag started clapping there hands in some form of aggressive dance, everyone questioning me seemed to melt away and fall casually asleep with their hand stuffed in their wallet pockets.
My bunk-mate beckoned me up as if we were on a train to Birkenau and Goebbels had just jumped on for a surprise inspection. One unlucky, unsuspecting bastard below was surrounded by four of these sari-clad pretty boys and after much guttural noises, clapping and groping was left at least 200 rupees short. I've never been so confused in my life and no one has been able to explain to me what the hell happened since.
Anyway, arrived in Chennai (ON TIME!!!) and was invited to dinner with Joseph, my bunk-mate savior. He worked for HSBC in Kolkata and was headed to Kerala to visit family for Xmas. He had some buds in Chennai who had promised to rescue him from train food for the night and have him back at the station for his next train to Kochi.
It was like being with uni kids from anywhere in the world. These guys talked only of a big night coming up at one of Chennai's only clubs, of how shit the service was at the restaurant and of how the pair of exposed legs and cleavage that just walked in was the first seen in months. We had some good laughs and groans when I told them of Barcelona's nude beaches...one I think even nipped to the loo for a ... pee.
Said farewell to Joseph and his buds and checked into a modern looking "must be clean and cockroach free" hotel. I was half right. The owners turned out to be cockroaches.
Notes to owners:
1) Toilet paper does not equal wet baby wipes
2) No I will not pay for my broken AC
3) Tell your bellhop to knock before he walks into my room and subsequently into my bathroom.
4) Please don't take one hour to photocopy/clone my passport down the road while I'm trying to leave.
5) Sorry about the luggi on your welcome sign...I was upset.
Love to Hate factor for India tipping in favour of the latter... for now.
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