One of the boys

The moustache lasted 5 minutes...

Once you have been in one place long enough, it begins to feel somewhat like home. You overcome the initial feelings of slight alienation and a familiar routine emerges...suddenly everything feels a lot more comfortable.

Life in Kollam is certainly very comfortbale, my routine is pretty well established, early mornings with a swim in the lake, chai and dosa for breakfast, expertly prepared by Mr Babu, my new best friend (he feeds me and I let him sleep in one of the spare rooms on the sly). Speaking no English at all and with my limited Malayalam, our mornings generally consists of expletives shouted at each other over breakfast as we try to convey the simplest of things.

Sent down to clean...but probably more for the entertainment value of watching a Saip down a well 

With clear skies and 30 degree weather most days are perfect for reading, writing and general exploring until the real fun begins circa 6pm. I usually hitch a lift into town...the novelty of picking up a foreigner has never failed me down so I enjoy free rides to most places. But I am simultaneously beginning to make the transition away from a simple tourist. Whilst I am by no means a local...my disappointing ability to tan betrays me here, I seem to now inhabit the void between the two. The touts now know my face and have quickly tired of offering me "cheap" house boat tours or "excellent" guesthouses. I am instead trying to beat them at thier own game

 The evening ferry arrives from Alleppey at 6pm, laden with "tourists". Whilst a hoard of Indian touts are there ready to greet them offering hotels, rickshwas and restaurants, I stand in the midst of the chaos, leaflets in hand equally plying my trade So far it has worked to my advantage, the initial shock of having a Westerner trying to sell you something is replaced by intrigue, and subsequently a sale!

"Come to India and meet young boys"!!! Mr Jackson...my inquisitive neighbour 

So after a few weeks bringing the place up to scratch with last minute decor etc, Ashtamudi Villas welcomed its first guests last week. SInce then we have seen a steady trickle of visitors and I have been amply entertained by a variety of Spanish, Dutch, Danish and even an old-school English couple seeking a return to India's wild golden days.

I was fortunate enough to be invited to an Indian wedding this week. Although I was unable to properly ascertain exactly whose wedding it was - so many people are loosely termed each other's "brothers" here. I deduced that it might have been a cousin of Sachu's. Naturally , in a society as traditional as Kerala's, marriage is not a trivial affair. I walked into an auditorium filled with 500 people, there to witness the marriage as the ceremonial proceedings continued on stage. As a Hindu ceremony it consisted of a series of rituals in which about 40 people from both families participated. I was interested to learn that a dowry is still presented to the groom, equal to the value of 1,000,000 Rs (12,500 GBP). Whilst typical of a conservative society such a Kerala, it struck me that in an area where people lead a very simple life, the middle classes are certainly not poor.

True to form, as the token foreigner I was invited on stage for photographs with the groom, happy to stand smiling, shaking the hand of someone I had known for the last 5 minutes. Subsequently, as if weddings regardless of their geographical location produce gaggles of excited children. I became the guy left to entertain the youthful masses...luckily my camera came to the resuce providing hours of entertainment.

Wedding lunch, the best Kerelan food I have tasted to date -served on a banna leaf...ingenious!

 For the moment, I shall be getting back to work, standing eagerly on the boat jetty scouting for naive young travellers to prey on!! Plans for the near future include continuing on my travels to Kanyakumari the Southern most tip of India and hopefully Auroville, the New-age mecca outside Pondicherry, where I very well may just find myself!!

James the Saip

The journey continues South to the tip of India, Kerala. Anyone who has had the prvilege of serving time on an Indian train will understand that the 26 hour journey direct from Goa was testing. With only 4hours to go and with the end in sight I was about to slap a neighbouring Indian, intent of converting me to Christianity. It was none of this nice tea and biscuit Christians you get in Bristo Square on a Sat night, I was explicitly told that I would burn in hell for eternity...after having survived the journey in 3rd class hell didn't seem all that bad.

Needless to say I was glad to arrive into Kollam; essentially the remains of one of the oldest port cities on the Arabian Sea, spices have been traded here for 2 millenia, but little of historical value now remains. I stay just outside the city on Ashtamudi lake, fed by waterways linking backwater villages 50 miles up and down the coast. It is some view to wake up to every morning, and just so I can fulfill every cliche possible, yes I do have fresh coconut for breakfast.

Home

So the MA (Hons) is finally paying off, as I have bagged myself a job in the real world. I run Ashtamudi Villas, a small collection of villas overlooking the lake, extremely comfortable by some of India's notorious tourist standards. And I pretty much have the run of the place to myself...assisted by my trusty Indian sidekick Sachu, who is force feeding me Malayalam - the local Keralan - dialect and has demanded that I attain fluency by the time I leave in six weeks.

Sachu - My partner in crime

Work isn't necessarily work in any real sense of the word, I seem to haved fill a pretty versatile role in the last 10 days including photographer, graphic designer and marketing strategist. I insist I have no experience in any of this, but as I am quickly learning...in India you merely need to talk the talk! So whilst I have various things on the go, I am generally left to my own devices for much of the day, such is the pace of life here. It is somewhat paradoxical as whilst most of India at first glance seems completely chaotic without any sense of order, underneath this maniac appearance is a calm approach to life with little sense of urgency; I was physically forced to take a siesta on my first day...no one has needed to remind me since!

I have in turn become a 'saip' which in Malayalam means white man, it's not uncomming to hear children screaming saip at me from across the road or people excalim 'saip' when I walk into a local dhaba. I have been assured that it's all friendly, but either way I'm stuck with it

Kollam is a great start to it all...there are further plans in the pipeline already which will be revealed in due course. In the meantime, all the best to everybody back home.

Somewhere to Go(a)

This is the beggining of a few insights into my life on the road. Sadly it seems that the world is coping perfectly well wothout me, Pete has surely already claimed the FNR as a creation of his own and it seems that the party has even re-migrated to Edinburgh in my absence. Nontheless, I hope these small extractswill satitate everyone's appetite for somethign exotic - I refer here to my newly tanned self- as well as providing some peace of mind that I haven't yet go myself into too much trouble.

I have recently left Goa...trance Mecca of the world, though I only caught the beginning of what looks like will be a promising season. A welcome change from Mumbai - far to hectic- I was quick to forget my last experience in an Indian city and will be the first to admit that I still came out short-changed, these boys are proffessional scammers, as sly as benefits cheats, yet they're out on the street looing for an easy buck rather than sitting on a three piece settee Carlsberg Export in hand. I'll give it to them...they work hard, but they are tricky bastards. So leaving Mumbai, ego slightly bruised I headed on down to Goa with intent to chill.



Completely easy going life up on the Northern beachs of Arambol, living in beach huts 50 m from the sea with a small group of people settling in for the season. Chillums and grinders rule here and the niche backpacker crowd still own the place...not swamped by Indian toruists as I found further down the coast. Beach bbqs most evenings with freshly caught crab and the rest of the day enjoy the fine Goan sun. Found myself a Enfield 350 motobike, so was cruising up and down the coast with a couple of friends. This was the real Goa...deserted beaches...no hassle from anyone, just us pitching a couple of hammocks and riding back into town for a few more beers. Equally Goa has changed since the loose party days on the 90s....the Russian mafia has even set up shop....business is booming in all sorts of illicit activities and India being India... enough money sent in the right person's direction will solve most problems. Rumour has it that the real Goan scene moved up into the mountains years ago...and you have to be in the know to find small communes littered with Israelis having overstayed their visas several years over.

Anyway, got pretty friendly with a sound group of people, some very chilled Indian lads down to set up an organic juice cafe, my partners in Trance...the Germans Ko and Natalie and even old connections from Edinburgh; the place quickly became home, turning into several late night sessions at our beach bar followed by even later mornings. This life, could have become the perfect routine as it already has done for so many, up at midday and strive to do nothing for the whole day. I even stumbled across three time world record holder and India's strongest
man, Monty, a 140kg bloke built as they come who gave me a lift on the back of his 120cc scooter, pretty surreal. And similarly when was the last time you heard the word's hash/coke/mdma offered to you by boys travelling 30mph as they pull up alongside your motorbike...anything goes here, yet I politely declined!

India, ladies and gentlemen, is epic; I will certainly be making a return to Goa around Dec time and I would encourage anybody who is interested to join me. Until then Bonsoir

The Bosphoru