Of Sitars And Vomit

Friday we arrived at a motel type place in Mamallapuram, and then out to sea front restaurant (which had been nearly destroyed by the 2004 tsunami, a wave 40ft in height crashing through the upper floors). A cycle tour amongst the rock carvings and sunbathing goats took care of the morning, and a visit to another orphanage on the outskirts of town provided a chance to embarass myself in a game of cricket (painful memories of numerous school sports days filled my head as I glared enviously at Dan's volleyball game). Still, it made the kids laugh.



Mysore seemed to be a pleasant enough place, and I got the chance to see someone playing the sitar in a restaurant - something I've been wanting to see and hear from the moment we chose to go to India. Have resolved to get hold of one and play it extremely badly on my return.

After Mysore we took a bumpy ride up to the Jungle Retreat, lurching along with all the grace of a giant squid riding a tandem. The shared dormitory very closely resembled the set from the first part of the film Full Metal Jacket, and we had the pleasure if sharing the room with some charmingly social cockroaches. The food at the Jungle Retreat was excellent, but I think there may have been something up with the water. I came to this sudden realization after 24 delightful hours of diarrhea and vomiting, during which my stomach felt like a set of septic bagpipes. A summer home for Indian military officers in Ootacamund, 2000m above sea level was the charming place of my recovery. Am feeling a lot better now, but disappointed that I missed the ride on the toy train (which to be fair was the deciding point in booking the trip).

Now back in Kochi and looking forward to getting on towards Goa with Dan and Jasmine.