January 2019 - Goa, Bangalore & Chennai, India
Diarrhoea. That’s right, folks. I’m aware readership is already declining so I thought it best to give a detailed account of my belated Delhi-belly, much to the delight of my brother whose unpleasant experience in the country will live long in the memory. My last two days of Goa were dominated by feverish symptoms including shivering, sweating through my clothes at night, severe headaches, and yes, shitting through the eye of a needle (sorry, Mum). When you’re away from home, you don’t want to waste any time, and so you feel bad if you spend a day in bed. But then you realize that every day is a day off (ha!) so sometimes it’s absolutely necessary to just lie in bed and poop. As an experienced Indian traveller (I was sick both previous times), I was expecting this, but poor Bex didn’t know what had hit her.
These troubled feelings made the buildup to our 14-and-a-half hour train journey from Goa to Bangalore that much more difficult. It was almost 9pm and we’d barely eaten anything all day. That morning I had vowed not to eat any more Indian food this trip (I would’ve said ‘never’ for dramatic purposes but even when speaking hypothetically my Mum would give me a thappad (slap). Despite this vow, it feels increasingly likely that it was actually the dodgy-looking Saturday night market Mexican stall which involved a Russian man hiding, crouched under the counter, as he prepared the salad for our tacos. Our overnight Three-Tier AC train (₹980 (£11)) was surprisingly comfortable and proved to be my best nights sleep in days. Thankfully, the horror stories of various unwelcome actions by watching men remained as stories of the past.
Diarrhoea. That’s right, folks. I’m aware readership is already declining so I thought it best to give a detailed account of my belated Delhi-belly, much to the delight of my brother whose unpleasant experience in the country will live long in the memory. My last two days of Goa were dominated by feverish symptoms including shivering, sweating through my clothes at night, severe headaches, and yes, shitting through the eye of a needle (sorry, Mum). When you’re away from home, you don’t want to waste any time, and so you feel bad if you spend a day in bed. But then you realize that every day is a day off (ha!) so sometimes it’s absolutely necessary to just lie in bed and poop. As an experienced Indian traveller (I was sick both previous times), I was expecting this, but poor Bex didn’t know what had hit her.
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| Indian Railways |
These troubled feelings made the buildup to our 14-and-a-half hour train journey from Goa to Bangalore that much more difficult. It was almost 9pm and we’d barely eaten anything all day. That morning I had vowed not to eat any more Indian food this trip (I would’ve said ‘never’ for dramatic purposes but even when speaking hypothetically my Mum would give me a thappad (slap). Despite this vow, it feels increasingly likely that it was actually the dodgy-looking Saturday night market Mexican stall which involved a Russian man hiding, crouched under the counter, as he prepared the salad for our tacos. Our overnight Three-Tier AC train (₹980 (£11)) was surprisingly comfortable and proved to be my best nights sleep in days. Thankfully, the horror stories of various unwelcome actions by watching men remained as stories of the past.
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| Lalbagh Botanical Gardens |
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| Indian Railways |
After a reasonably-priced Ola ride through an app - an Uber equivalent which also uses auto-rickshaws - we arrived at our Airbnb in Bangalore hosted by the very kind and helpful Sourabh. Other than the uncleanliness, the towel attempting to replace a window, the many wires hanging out of the wall and the cockroaches, we had a delightful stay. The city was buzzing and it had a very western feel in comparison to what we had experienced in Delhi. Trees were prevalent in ‘The Garden City’, providing a pleasant contrast to the masses of waste and - at times - strong taste of pollution. The Lalbagh Botanical Gardens were by far the greenest and freshest area we had visited in the country and was well worth the ₹20 (22p) entry fee.
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| Mahathma Gandhi Road |
A four-hour Chennai Express train ride (₹545 (£5.90)) - a system of which we had now mastered - saw us arrive in Chennai, on the Bay of Bengal. We enjoyed a mild South Indian thali dish which comprised of several small portions of vegetarian curries with rice and popadoms. From the same restaurant, we also purchased a mixed box of extremely sweet - even for me - typical Indian sweets called mithai which included my favourite types of burfi (milk-based) amongst other heart-stopping delights.
The intricate and brightly coloured Arulmigu Kapaleeswarar Temple of the Dravidian style dedicated to the Hindu Lord Shiva was striking. The long stretch of beach had - amongst the endless waste - hundreds of stalls which - every few hundred meters - sold the EXACT same things. We spent our final night in India - once I had convinced the manager to let me enter in shorts - at the popular 10 Downing Street bar and restaurant and had overly-strong espresso martinis with fried Indian snacks and vegetables - items we were right in thinking would not compliment each other. It did still beat our previous evening meal of paneer (Indian cheese) burgers at McDonald’s, however. Goodbye, my India.
The intricate and brightly coloured Arulmigu Kapaleeswarar Temple of the Dravidian style dedicated to the Hindu Lord Shiva was striking. The long stretch of beach had - amongst the endless waste - hundreds of stalls which - every few hundred meters - sold the EXACT same things. We spent our final night in India - once I had convinced the manager to let me enter in shorts - at the popular 10 Downing Street bar and restaurant and had overly-strong espresso martinis with fried Indian snacks and vegetables - items we were right in thinking would not compliment each other. It did still beat our previous evening meal of paneer (Indian cheese) burgers at McDonald’s, however. Goodbye, my India.
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