A Passage from India

Naturalisation

2009-02-10T17:19:00.002+05:30

Many kind readers have taken the time to send me gently scolding emails asking what has happened to the blog.

Well, I think it has come to an end. It's been an amazing journey and I've got a wonderful catalogue of memories, but as I complete my second year in India, I've found that the bonkers has become the norm. I've lost the urge to blog.

Of course, I'm not saying this is the final curtain. Madness lurks around every corner and I may once again be called upon to use the blog cathartic needful. Until then . . .

5 Star Bucket

2008-12-19T00:26:00.003+05:30

Getting my hair done for a fancy do is a necessity not a luxury. If I have any hope of presenting myself and representing my country in public I need assistance.

Attended the US Marine Corp Ball a few weeks ago. We decided to call upon the trusted name of The Oberoi New Delhi for a wash and blow dry to clean off the dust and tame the frizz so as not to scare the soldiers.

Except, things at The Oberoi were not operating under normal service. Their salon was being renovated and we were ushered towards a temporary site in, well frankly, I have no idea where. Down some twisting path into the bowels of Old Delhi. Never mind, it's all about the hair wash. I decided to gratefully receive their offer of a head massage and enjoyed being kneaded for a few minutes. When my hair was filled with the optimum amount of oil, the manager decided this would be the perfect moment to inform me that there was no running water.

Excuse me?

Yes madam, no water, 10 minutes Madam.

10 minutes, 20 minutes, 30 minutes later? Still no water. Time was ticking along but I was determined that I shall go to the ball.

I snapped into action mode and convinced the team to think outside of the box. Find me a bucket. Knock on the door of the neighbouring building and get some fresh water. Now help me rinse this gunk out of my hair. Go Go Go!

Mission successful.

Wii Fat

2008-12-19T00:20:00.003+05:30

I've been busy.

There has been a lot to do. Work whirlwind. Lots of visitors. Pre-Christmas socialising. Exercise has not been prioritised. I feel guilty enough about this avoidance without having it rubbed in my face.

The Wii has betrayed my confidence and told tales on me. Exposed by my console nemesis. For shame.

Overkill Drill?

2008-12-19T00:10:00.004+05:30

Everyone is adjusting to life after the terrible events in Mumbai.

Suddenly the normal is second-guessed. My first visit to a 5* hotel afterwards saw my dining colleagues and I spend the first 10 minutes of our meal discussing our tactics for escape should the unthinkable happen (get outside or head for the kitchens, FYI). Our office now has a policeman stationed outside, armed with an old rifle.

Even The Tower is getting in on the act. This poster greeted me when I got to the lift lobby this evening.

Gap in the Service

2008-12-11T01:04:00.000+05:30

Not many chucklesome topics to blog about recently ... sorry.

Thick Skin

2008-11-20T00:30:00.002+05:30

Bring on the amusing comments re: my choice of hat.

My life takes me down some very strange paths. On a mission to find a new office. In India, there are different considerations. Today found out that we can be supplied with a snake-charming service in case a mischevious serpent decides to mess with us.

Maid of Honour?

2008-11-20T00:17:00.002+05:30

Trouble across the hall; my neighbours have evicted their maid.

I came out of the lifts yesterday and stumbled into a very tense scene on the 14th floor landing. My neighbour, two security sprites and an unidentified serious man had surrounded a maid. She was clearly being thrown out of my neighbour's flat as she was dressed in many layers and carrying a small suitcase.

The security goons made her open the case and they roughly searched it for stolen items. I didn't recognise the maid so perhaps she was new. The relationship between householder and maid is tense, very tense. Some get along like life-long friends, partnering up with symbiotic understanding and care. A few maids are dishonest. Many householders are beastly to their maids. Treating them brutally and without a sense of humanity. At least once a month The Times of India tells a grizzly tale of a maid who snaps and slaughters the householder in a fit of bloody revenge.

However, no such drama on the 14th floor. The maid meekly submitted to the search, nothing was found, she departed, escorted into the service elevator, and I could stop spying through the keyhole.

Kingfisher and Camel

2008-11-20T00:11:00.002+05:30

Stumbled out of a restaurant, ended up facing a camel. As you do. Watch out, they spit.

Class, Gold Class

2008-11-13T10:05:00.003+05:30

A new cinematic experience has come to The Gurg. Gold Class.

A normal cinema but instead of normal chairs, you get a reclining lounger and table service. What finer way to see the new Bond movie; although a bit distracting when you receive your order and bill for food just when Bond is about to dispatch another group of hapless henchmen.

Rung Out

2008-11-13T09:54:00.003+05:30

The wee boy who lives across the hall is a terror.

At least once a week I am 'treated' to the cacophony of a hissy fit where he displays his petulance in a dance of shrieks across the hall. 'F*** Off and do it in the privacy of your apartment' I think. The parents and two maids are not only content to let him tantrum around the communal areas but they also think it is acceptable for him to use my door bell as a play toy.

As long-term readers can testify, I haven't enjoyed the best of luck with doorbells. And once again, I've got a new one. The dervish boy, in another fit of attention seeking behaviour, was pressing it continuously, as well as kicking and banging my front door [which isn't exactly robust following a previous incident]. I didn't want to answer a) as I didn't want to give him any excuse to do it again and b) I wasn't sure exactly how to help him understand not to do it again.

He was not to be deterred and pressed so long that the doorbell exploded! The little box inside emitted a loud bang and a wisp of smoke came out. The sprites were quick on the repair but have brought in a rather dull grey box as opposed to my soothing pastoral scene of old.

Rajasthani Sunsets

2008-11-10T11:26:00.003+05:30

A weekend in Udaipur

2008-11-10T11:16:00.008+05:30

Beat Booze Ban

2008-11-10T10:48:00.002+05:30

An astonishing piece of journalism in The Times of India on Saturday.

On the front page was an article advising citizens of how to BEAT a breathaliser test. Never mind, don't drink and drive, this message was go ahead and get drunk and here is how you can take the wheel and not get caught.

Their advise was to have a very fat or very tall person drive as their body mass bonus means they can absorb more booze.

Extraordinary.

Foggy Memories

2008-11-10T10:38:00.005+05:30

As winter approaches, so does the fog.

Delhi is cloaked in a brown ming in the winter months as cold air traps pollution and smoke from fires in a brown cloak above the city.

Witness the visibility at Delhi airport on Saturday morning.

Created a lovely orange sunrise though.

The 6 stages of the mosquito bite

2008-11-04T17:48:00.004+05:30

1. The Bite

Barely noticeable at the time. Usually somewhere at the edge of clothes. Ankle is prime location.

2. The Tingle

A subtle needling tingle begins on the affected area. Before you know it, you are absently mindedly scratching, increasing in ferocity, before you realise what you are doing and inspect the area of your attentions. You will notice a white bump surrounded by an angry red blush.

3. The Retreat

After the intial tingle, the bite retreats for one day. No sign. No pain. It waits

4. The Itch

The bite is back and this time brings with it an incontrollable need for you to rip the skin off your body just to make the crawling, relentless itch disappear.

If you can control your urges at this crucial stage, the bite is over for you. You are the winner. However, if you cave then you proceed to:

5. The scratch

Blessed relief through digging nails. Only temporary as the scratching stops, the buzzing in your body returns, more irritating than before. The harder the scratch, the more intense the revenge.

6. The cut

Too much scratching leads to blood being drawn which in turn leads to ...

6. The scab

A crusty reminder not to scratch in the first place.

Shell-Shocked

2008-10-30T10:37:00.005+05:30

It's Diwali right now.

Like Christmas in the West, there is a tradition of present giving. I've not had much in the way of corporate gifts in the past but received a fancy box upon my return to work. Inside, a glass clam shell and oyster paperweight. It's about the size of my fist. Quite remarkable.

and another one . . .

Super Size

2008-10-30T10:29:00.003+05:30

Caught sight of the new Airbus superjumbo at Heathrow last week.

It's big man; really, really big. It dwarfed my own plane. It's not the best picture, but you can still see it hulking on the tarmac. looming in the window like some mournful Diplodocus. It needed two different air bridges to board, one which sloped up to the higher deck. Like I said, it's big.

I am not keen to be boarding it just yet. I'll wait a while and see how she gets on.

No Idea

2008-10-30T10:24:00.002+05:30

Saw this fantastic ad in a magazine in Japan. It's for a new flexible screen. To showcase this wonder, they have decided to go for a proposition showing how it can benefit you if you are an outdoors type who comes across an injured deer. That's right, you can roll out your computer and google deer first aid. The beast is bandaged and you can go on your way, pleased at the contribution you have made to Mother Nature.

What? Who is this aimed at? Are injured deer something that large numbers of early adopter people worry about?

6 Days in Japan

2008-10-29T18:19:00.007+05:30

Yes, Yes, I realise that flying from Delhi to London and then London to Tokyo is a foolish way to holiday, but what the heck.

I've always wanted to go to Japan and I wasn't disappointed. It's ace. Manic, yet ordered. Crazy yet, zen.

Native of Nowhere

2008-10-29T18:08:00.003+05:30

I've been away for a long time. 3 weeks in fact. Strange being back. The UK is gripped in a fatalistic frenzy over the recession / credit crunch / economic slowdown. Doom and gloom on every page on every channel. I was happy to get out of there.

I was a bit country mouse when in London at first. Things move so fast. I was intimidated going on the tube and failing to have the co-ordination to get my Oyster card swiped, pocket it, skip down the escalators and change the volume on my iPod before effortlessly swishing into the carriage. Of course at the end of the two weeks I was back in the swing of things. And tutting viciously at befuddled tourists who were in my way.

Good evening London!

2008-10-29T18:07:00.002+05:30

Ah, it feels very, very good.

Pub Art

2008-10-09T14:48:00.004+05:30

Been gigging since my return to London. It's my chance to purge my system of Glen Medeiros and Boyzone as is the norm in The Gurg.

At The Astoria lasty night. The very definition of a scuzzy London gig venue. Falling to pieces, filthy dirty but oozing atmosphere. We tend to meet at equally scuzzy boozer The Blue Posts. I love sitting outside this pub as opposite is a massive wall-sized Banksy painting. Not only is the painting fun to look at but it also creates amusing passer-by behaviour. People stop, stare, realise what they are looking out and then whip out the camera phone. I am no exception, obviously.

Customer Service?

2008-10-05T10:03:00.002+05:30

Just received a strange phone call.

I'm flying to London today. Mty mobile rang a few minutes ago:

Me: Hello

Hello this is Shiva from Delhi Airport

Me: [fearing the worst, delay, cancellation ...) Yes?

SfDA: Ma'am, I just want to inform you that your flight is on time today

Me: [baffled] I'm sorry, what?

SfDA: Yes, Ma'am the flight is leaving as scheduled. What time do you think you will be getting to the airport?

Me: [completely taken aback] Erm, about 11:30 I think

SfDA: good Ma'am.

Me: [attempting to make sense of this] Do you normally phone passengers?

SfDA: [as if I have asked the most stupid question in the world] Of course Ma'am

Me: Right.

So, there you go. In all the times I have flown out of Delhi I have never been phoned before. It was a real person too, as opposed to an automated system. He didn't elaborate as to whether this was an airport service or a Virgin Atlantic business service. Imagine if you got a phone call from Heathrow or Chicago O'Hare?

I am still highly confused and to be honest, a little suspicious. The guy was ringing from a mobile. What if it some burglar gang checking that I will be out of town? I've locked my irn bru in a cupboard just in case.

Update: I just called his number and Shiva answered and there were aiport noises in the background so I feel a little more assured.

Birthday Girl

2008-10-03T10:48:00.004+05:30

It was my birthday on Wednesday.

We went for dinner at The Fox and were treated to their special brand of musical entertainment. They even belted out Happy Birthday for me but my embarrassment was tempered by the nice cake that accompanied the tune.

Later, I also received a special present. 4 cans of irn bru and a multi-pack of Walkers crisps. More than I could ever have asked for.

Sinister Simians

2008-10-01T01:19:00.002+05:30

The monkey threat is back.

They have been quiet for months. Not spotted on the streets of Delhi. But on Sunday, there they were. Amassed in greater numbers than ever before. And this time, they have a gun.

They've got artillery. We're doomed.

Balwan's Celebration

2008-10-01T01:13:00.002+05:30

Balwan had me cringing in shame on Sunday.

Late Saturday night he ferried my refreshed carcass home from the High Commission Summer Ball. Sunday lunchtime he took my broken form to The Palms for recovery. Then later took me into Delhi for further socialising.

As the sun went down he proudly announced:

Today Madam, I celebrate my 40th year

Oh Lord, it's only his 40th Birthday. And the poor man has to spend it driving my worthless self around. I felt like absolute scum. If only he'd told me I'd have arranged for another driver to come and give him the day off he deserves to celebrate with his family and friends. And get him a card and present. The utter, utter shame. I am not worthy.

Suggestive Signs

2008-10-01T01:09:00.002+05:30

The roads in Ladakh are treacherous.

Hopeless ribbons of tarmac that cling to the mountainside. Narrow, crumbling pot-holed dirt tracks in places. Drivers are warned to be careful by wonderful yellow signs that amuse as well as advise. I can't help but think the sign writer has other things on his mind.

Breathtaking Ladakh

2008-10-01T00:47:00.004+05:30

Just came back from a week in Ladakh. Up near the Tibetan border, in the Himalayas.

Amazing. The most stunning landscape I have ever seen. Glowering mountains in every direction. Snow and brilliant blue skies. Lakes of solitude. Treacherous passes. Moonscape glacier aftermath. Breathless altitude at 3500m. At some points you had to remind your lungs to breathe. Every step a wheeze.

Lunch Options

2008-09-19T23:25:00.014+05:30

The one benefit of leaving the eyrie is that I now work on a site where there are lunch options. The eyrie was a desert when it came to food. The new office has a curry wallah who comes in and serves up a watery but hearty veg curry with dal and salad. Just the thing to kick-start the day . . . sometimes.

If the notion takes you, popping out for lunch is an option. The talk of the office last week was the opening of a Subway. Sandwich needful has arrived. A new excitement today when Nicky and I popped out for tiffin to a South Indian restaurant and enjoyed a delicious and impossibly lengthily named rava paneer onion masala dosa.

Yes, it does look like a burnt doilie but this rice pancake is actually delicious. The sambal stew is the red sauce on the right. Never touch the red sauce on the left as it will burn off your tongue. The white curd stuff in the middle is simply foul. Wash down with a sweet lime juice. Nice.

Dive!

2008-09-19T23:25:00.012+05:30

Having a pleasant al fresco lunch at The Imperial when suddenly some sort of giant winged beast swoops out of the sky and snatches an item of the table next to us.

It was enormous, perhaps a kite? To me it appeared to be an embodiement of Brian Blessed in Flash Gordon. The bird did another pass over us and we saw that its treasure from the raid was a cocktail stirring stick. Perhaps the Brian Blessed Bird was having a party?

September Rain

2008-09-19T23:25:00.011+05:30

The rain is back.

For the past two days it has tipped down, flooding roads, causing sewers to spew out ming into the open air and reducing traffic to a crawl. It's miserable, it's making my hair curl and I insist it stops before Sunday at The Palms is ruined.

Fresh with Fennel

2008-09-19T23:25:00.007+05:30

Most restaurants will offer to save your blushes and provide you with a toothpick and breathfresher.

People here grab a toothpick and have a right good poke around. I have now adopted this habit and it really is very satisfying. I must remember not to get the pick out when back in London.

The breathfreshener usually takes the form of a bowl of fennel and sugar which you spoon into your hand and slam down your throat, usually depositing the bulk of it down your chest. Last night we got the freshener wrapped up in betel leaf to chew on. Well, I say chew, more like grind, slurp and gag.

Dinner at Balwan's

2008-09-19T10:51:00.012+05:30

Balwan once again has proved to be quite lovely.

When picking me up from the airport a few weeks ago he asked me how long I was staying in India. I replied that I will be here until the end of May 2009. He then pulled the car over into a layby and turned around and told me that he was thrilled, is so pleased to be my driver and he considers me an honourable member of his family. Well, I don't think anyone has every extended such kind words to me before. All I could do was blush. Then he insisted that Nicky, Maarten and I come round for dinner to his family home.

So, on Saturday we went round to his little house in a Delhi suburb. We met his wife and two children - Maarten coined them mini-Balwans. Balwan had built the house himself and was so proud of providing the home for his family. They had gone to so much trouble for us as we could see by the display of beer, crisps and an entire bottle of Smirnoff laid out on the table. Balwan had clearly been studying my shopping habits. We estimated that the spread was at least 3 weeks salary which made me feel dreadful but grateful.

Chat was a little awkward given our lack of Hindi but it is amazing what can be achieved with gestures and single words. We were unsure of the plan for the evening but Usha, Balwan's wife, went into the kitchen to make chappatis and paranthas. The stove and work surface is actually on the floor so Usha sat on a tiny stool, almost on her haunches, to prepare the food. Maarten was straight in there, sitting on the floor and trying out his rolling skills. Usha was initially not impressed, saying his chappatis looked like a map of India as opposed to a perfect circle. Maarten was spurred on and soon was making them to an acceptable standard. Balwan looked initially embarrassed then thrilled that his guest was sat on his kitchen floor making bread.

An enormous feast was served up of veg curry. Balwan had asked me a few days earlier if we were 'non-veg' i.e. meat eaters and I was sure he was going to go to the trouble of cooking meat just to please us. I hurriedly said veg would be lovely. The food was delicious. We did feel somewhat in the spotlight as the family - by this time included brother, sister, nephews and mother in law - sat in another room watching us eat. It was late and I knew they were waiting for us to finish so they could eat. However, Balwan was having none of us finishing up and rushing out.

Balwan kept declaring us ‘most important guests’ and insisting we do this every month. We simply can’t due to the inconvenience on his family, expense and, selfishly, the intensity of the occasion.

Bye-Bye Eyrie

2008-09-19T10:51:00.011+05:30

I'm moving to a new office. I'm going to be working with other people again instead of solo at the outpost. It's weird having people around instead of on the end of the phone. I'll miss the view of the dirty old town. So long and thanks for the memories.

Delhi Bombs

2008-09-19T10:51:00.002+05:30

Enjoyed a lovely day in Delhi on Saturday. Got my hair cut at New Friends Colony and then went to Khan Market for some shopping needful and refreshment.

Heading out of the city about 6:30 my phone starts ringing. A colleague is on the phone, serious, and telling me to get out of Delhi. He's watching the TV and reports of bombs going off at multiple locations across the city. After a quick round-up, we learn all our colleagues and friends are OK. A relief.

The bombs were planted at a range of sites designed to snare all types of people - local markets, middle class shopping areas and tourist areas - and timed to go off at a busy time, sundown when the heat of the day has gone. A nasty deliberate business.

Incidentally, the NCTC reports that India suffers the most terror attacks per year. That's more than Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel and Palestine.

What would you say . . .

2008-09-11T00:46:00.005+05:30

We're back for an evening at Gurgaon's premier revolving restaurant.

The revolutions were distracting but the works of art were frankly disturbing. Sarah was quite alarmed by a painting of a thin lady and was spooked when the spins of the restaurant floor took us right under her gaze. We held our nerve and span away from the ghoul.

Despite the freakish artwork, the key feature of the evening was the rocking soundtrack that had me on the verge of a chair-stand-salute! It was like a compilation of the best of the Now That's What I Call Music classic albums.

Let me hear your excitement for Status Quo In The Army Now (topical), Bananarama Love in the 3rd Degree, Pet Shop Boys It's A Sin, Four Non-Blondes What's Going On and the killer, the show stopper, the last year of school power ballad lighter in the air holler with me now Extreme with More Than Words. Yeah!

Any chance of a game?

2008-09-11T00:37:00.002+05:30

I'm raging. Home after a few social scoops and fancied watching a bit of footie. Yes, I like football. It's World Cup qualifying. I know better than to expect Scotland v Iceland to make it on to the TV, but the England match is a belter of a tie and it must be on somewhere.

So, we have 4 sports channels on our Indian cable package; surely England v Croatia merit broadcast on at least one of them?

Alas, no. We have billiards, English Division One Cricket (WTF!), highlights of Iran v Jordan (presumably football as opposed to the supermodel versus the nation) and, last chance, yes, it's football, yes, it says live, I think I've nailed it! What is it? No! For God's sake PSV Eindhoven Vs Utrecht recorded from last week. Are you frackin' kidding me!

I've resorted to BBC's internet updates in the huff. At least Scotland are winning 1-0.

Slippery When Wet

2008-09-08T13:10:00.002+05:30

I spoke to soon, the Monsoon is still a late-night marauder.

A huge thunderstorm rained down last night while I was out for dinner. I arrived home to find the boarded-up window in my bedroom had leaked rain water all over my floor, chair, rug and bed linen which was touching the floor. Gah!

I spent the remainder of my Sunday evening draping sopping furnishings across the apartment to dry out. This was not only annoying but also hazardous as the dripping water pooled on the stone floors creating a skiddy surface which had me skating and grabbing at door frames for support.

Shake and Bake

2008-09-07T23:21:00.005+05:30

The monsoon has passed.

The skies are blue, the sun is out, the heat is on. It's baking. About 35 relentless degrees. As the surface water has receeded we can see the damage to The Gurg's roads. Every one pock-marked with craters where the tarmac has been washed away. The local authorities have filled them with pieces of broken bricks thus making any trip in a car that of a bone-shaking jolt, with the car lurching alarmingly from side to side and up and down over the rubble.

I have one hand clamped tightly on the hand rail above the window and the other clamped under my Bristols to prevent painful bouncing.

The roads are so bad, the Times of India has launched a 'best pothole' competition, encouraging readers to photograph the offending voids and send them in.

Albert's Table

2008-09-04T00:31:00.003+05:30

Readers from yore might recall fellow blogger Jane and her blog tendancy to focus on all things epicurean.

Well, she has taken the passion for food one step further and opened her own restaurant - Albert's Table. I went down last week to check it out and, obviously you'd expect me to say this, but the food was delicious. Tasty classic British fare made with local ingredients and with a pleasing wine list to boot.

If you happen to be near the Croydon manor, go and check it out. You won't be disappointed. Nice one Jane.

Stephante has left the building

2008-09-03T23:53:00.009+05:30

I've got a new passport and I'm quite affected at saying farewell to my old one. Almost a decade of my life; its wings clipped in the corner and consigned to a drawer.

What tales it could tell: adventures taken, flights of fear, a new life abroad. I am particularly taken with the dubious names in visas I have been granted by certain nations who you would expect to do better. I'm talking to you China, where I am known as the elusive C. Robin and yes, you too Mongolia with the mysterious and elegant Stephante Mary.

The new one? Nothing. Tabula Rasa. I suppose it should act as an incentive to get out there and fill its pages with new excitements and new aliases.

What summer?

2008-09-02T23:34:00.005+05:30

People in the UK are angry.

August was supposed to deliver the sun. It was the last month of hope after a drizzly June & July. But no. London was menaced by low, grey clouds and occasional spurts of rain.

Here is a snap from a trip to Loch Lomond on Saturday, not much visibility. The sun did come out for 2 hours just before I departed for India, causing a bit of sparkle on the Gareloch.

space

However, for the citizens of the UK it was not enough. The nation is now officially pissed off.

A Religious Experience

2008-09-02T23:21:00.009+05:30

An evening of fine dining in Glasgow.

Relax with some gin-based frivolity. Soften the mood with a fine cheeseboard. Add in some tapestry and china-based religious iconography. Enjoy by the light of satan's candlesticks. Leave to boil over in a state of some excitement.

Follow with two nurofen to soften the blow.

Solitube

2008-08-27T02:59:00.004+05:30

Heading home late on Bank Holiday Monday, I had the rare experience of having the tube all to myself. A little spooky. Where did everybody go?

Lewd London

2008-08-27T02:57:00.002+05:30

It's not big, and it's not clever . . .

Reading Rock

2008-08-27T02:47:00.003+05:30

It's getting harder, but a day of rock is still worth it.

We opted not to camp in the primitive fields of Reading and opted for a hotel. Smart move but unfortunately didn't harden us up to the realities of a day at the fest - the toilet queues were a logistical abomination. The queues threw up a conundrum: drink and face the pee consequences or stay sober and free from toilet tyranny. Of course the booze won out in the end.

Bloc Party did an absolute belter of a set, plus I will always love a band that breaks out a big green laser. Ooh. The Killers were in parts dire but the bouncealong genius of the songs from Hot Fuss saved the day. There were times during Mr Brightside when I feared that people might explode with their commitment to bellowing along every word. I'm not sure if there is a more perfect festival set closer than All These Things That I've Done. The band had to race to keep up with the crowd's singing.

Yes, it's getting harder, but I've already bought my tickets for next year. And made hotel reservations of course.

Santa Maria!

2008-08-20T20:50:00.007+05:30

Agent Andy, once of the India Cell, has a new mission. Incredibly he's going to drive from Normady to Portugal in an old banger with three ladies. The motor costs £245 and has a growl on it that scares birds. Wish him luck here.

See that girl, watch that scene

2008-08-20T20:04:00.003+05:30

The plane that flew me to London on Monday had a lovely name. Made me smile. Diggin the Dancing Queen.

Back in the Saddle

2008-08-18T10:34:00.005+05:30

Got out into the green countryside for some mountain biking on Saturday.

We carefully picked a trip that was a descent i.e. no uphill struggling. All was going to plan as we careered up the mountain to Nagarkot, powered incongrously by the drivers 1980s power ballad tape (Careless Whisper!). However, 3 km from the top the police stopped our van. Turns out there is a festival going on at the hilltop temple and thousands of pilgrims were streaming up the narrow road. We had to get out and [gulp] cycle up the rest of the way. Oh no!

It was hell. Steep and crowded. My bike didn't have a bell so I was literally pushing past people making a bell noise to clear the path for my handlebars [ding ding!]. I must confessed I walked most of the way. In fact at one point, an enthusuastic pilgrim grabbed my bike and started cycling it for me. I didn't have the breath to object. The struggle did make our ascent feel worthy. Being driven up was a bit of a cheat.

The way down was a elbow snapping 20km bump over rocks and ruts through forest tracks and mountain villages. I did a spectacular bellyflop at one point - which is actually a very hard thing to do on a bike. The views were incredible. Strange to be in Nepal and not see the Himalayas due to the low monsoon cloud. However, the monsoon did reward us with luscious greens - a tonic from the brown watery mire of The Gurg.

We cycled all the into the village of Bhaktapur - an incredible collection of wooden buildings and temples. Cold beer and momos were hoovered up to take the saddle pain away. An amazing way to spend a day.

Namaste, Nepal

2008-08-18T10:20:00.006+05:30

Finally made it out of the madness of shut-down Delhi and into the skies. A thrill to tumble out of the clouds and into the Kathmandu valley. A riot of green and elevation. Countryside adventure was to come later.

First, a sampling of the social scene in the backpacker ghetto of Thamel. Cold beer. Ropey game of pool on a ripped table. Singalong to live music. And to bed at a sensible hour. Kathmandu becomes Kathmandon't after 11:30pm as everywhere shuts up. Except for the dreadful nightclub in our hotel that it. Club Platinum? A terrible mistake.

The End is Nigh

2008-08-14T16:57:00.000+05:30

The world has gone mad.

It's Independence Day tomorrow. A cause for celebration with a big parade in Delhi, but also the most popular day in the year for terror attacks.

In preparation Delhi is locked down. The border is sealed to commercial vehicles thus creating massive traffic jams at the checkpoints. The Gurg is on the border and the madness has begun. The traffic is already building up and slowing to a crawl. It took me 1 and a half hours to get home; a journey that normally takes 10 minutes.

Worringly, I am flying out of Delhi tomorrow and am not sure if I will make it to the airport. Can Balwan get out of
the city? Can our car get through the border to the airport? Current plans are that I am leaving at 8 am for a 1pm flight. Not happy but if I make it I will consider it worth it. Contingency is to get to a Gurg hotel and get
their car to take us through if Balwan gets stuck. It's very unsettling.

To add to the unease, the rains are back again. I'm trapped between the brown flood water and the leaden sky. Things look bleak.

Gold Standard

2008-08-14T01:43:00.004+05:30

The Olympics have been found. Channel 16 on my cable. No idea what the channel is called. It is very reminiscent of The Fast Show's Channel 9. Buono Estente. Sporto!

Coverage is focusing on the fact that India have won their first ever individual Gold medal.

India's hero, Abhinav Bindra, is a man of priviledge. As one of my Indian friends commented; 'no wonder he won Gold, he has his own private air-conditioned shooting range in his back yard. He bloody better have won.' Priviledge has its rewards.

E thes thes thes Chris Waddle . . .

Media Blackout

2008-08-10T12:53:00.000+05:30

The Olympics have started, apparently.

Indian TV seems not to have noticed. Of the 4 sports channels on TV, 2 of them are showing repeats of old cricket matches, 1 is showing a live cricket match and the other is going from pool to golf.

Ahem, hello? Beijing? World's biggest sports event? Olympics? No? Where is the BBC when you need it?

Troublesome Spirits

2008-08-09T20:19:00.005+05:30

Out and about in foolish acts of socialising. Best to pause in between events to get in touch with your spiritual side to gather the strength to carry on.

Spirits were certainly causing us trouble, especially on Friday night at a free bar. Another cosmo? Certainly.

Return of the Sun

2008-08-09T20:17:00.003+05:30

At last. The rain has stopped. The sky has cleared. The roads have dried. The sun is back.

That Sinking Feeling

2008-08-09T19:55:00.007+05:30

The rain keeps coming. And coming. And coming.

Friday's drive to work was hazardous. The water was now not just filling potholes but swamping roads and spilling over kerbstones. Astonished to see one man bailing out his car with a bucket.

Then dark thoughts as we passed him into the deeper water. I could hear the water sloshing against the underside of the car beneath my feet. Waves [waves!] from the jousting traffic splashed over the bonnet. I considered we were going to suffer a flooded engine and have to abandon the vehicle. Balwan held his nerve and gunned us through the pools and out to dry land.

Daily Delhi Downpours

2008-08-05T10:37:00.005+05:30

The monsoon is flexing its muscles.

After a month of occasional showers we now have daily downpours. A fantastic amount of water pours from the sky; slamming on the earth with a hissing percussion and flashes of lightning. A brolly is futile. Life is a tip-toe of soaked trouser bottoms and wet feet. Plus frizz. The sheer amount of water means there is nowhere for it to go and it pools on roads, causing traffic jams as cars tentatively push through the puddles. Given the state of the roads in Gurgaon, you never know if a puddle is a shallow dip or an axle-breaking crater.

The little piggies in the shanty town are loving it - lots of mud gloops up for wallowing.

Tower of Tunes II

2008-08-05T00:25:00.004+05:30

The Viking Doc doesn't do things by half. Especially not a house party.

Bar staff, video displays and, yes, a massive generator on a truck. Bo!

Desperate Measures

2008-08-05T00:17:00.003+05:30

Post-pub. Feel the need to keep the night going.

Raid the kitchen for beverages. Half-drunk bottle of Goan wine (weak but bitter)? A corked bottle of other Indian wine (musty and arid)?

No, let's look at the spirits. Vodka? Good. Mixers? Half-drunk long-opened can of tonic? Hmmn. Ropey fanta substitute? No. I couldn't possibly bear to open the irn bru. I briefly considered squeezing a pomegranate to get some juice. Fortunately, I made a last-minute discover of Indian Rose chilling at the back of the fridge. Ah, it's a sugary knock-out shot but it means the evening can continue.

You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day

2008-08-04T23:59:00.004+05:30

Our colleagues invited us to a work bash on Friday night and we witnessed our Indian friends really letting their hair down.

Some outstanding choreography to banging Bollywood tunes. Pairs would break out into an unspoken jive and execute perfectly. Of course, we wanted to see what the Brits could offer. Alas, our long-kick jigging to Footloose probably wasn't that impressive. Thank God we didn't opt for the knee slides.

Things got worse when the DJ spun Wake Me Up Before You Go Go. I let out a blood curdling scream of approval. Unfortunately the previously boisterous crowd had clammed up at the first sound of Wham, leaving me roaring on my own. Thankfully, Sarah swiftly arrived, thundering onto the dancefloor to help me dance away my blushes.

On the Grid

2008-07-31T10:19:00.003+05:30

The Tower is struggling.

For its first two years of existence The Tower survived on its own power; driven along by big filthy diesel generators. Now it has been connected to the local electricity grid with less than impressive results.

A typical evening in is punctuated with flickering lights as the grid valiantly tries to keep going and then the inevitable dying of the light. And the a/c. TV. Internet. Water filter. This makes quite a cool dying electronics noise, like a rogue AI computer that has been finally beaten after a battle of wills.

The effect is somewhat tiresome. Trying to watch a DVD is agony. Switching on the machine, waiting for the disk to load, skipping through the warnings (if I have to view the anti-piracy ad anymore I'll go mental) and the trailers, main menu, searching to find the scene you were watching again, only for the power to fail minutes later. Aaargh!

When the power comes on it surges, thus tripping my fuses. Suddenly the wind-up torch my Mum got me seems like a stroke of genius as I potter in the dark to reset the switches. I've requested power-surge protector units from the sprites in case my laptop gets fried.

Queue Miscue

2008-07-30T23:25:00.003+05:30

Went to the supermarket today. This was a mistake.

Shops in The Gurg are closed on a Tuesday (don't ask). Therefore they are rammed on a Wednesday. I made the mistake of popping in to pick up 2 items and had to wait in a lengthy queue.

Things were ticking along and at last it was my turn at the checkout. Suddenly, this brazen geezer turns up and instead of taking his dutiful place at the back of the queue, he slaps his item down in front of me. Oh really?

Being British I am clearly fuming at the queue abuse. Being British I am clearly struggling to voice my objections but I am raging inside. I am prepared to unleash a volley of indignant fury, when the checkout lady saves his life and dispatches him to the rear. This is extremely rare in India and I am grateful for the intervention.

To make this a uniquely Indian experience, this whole escapade is played out to the soundtrack of Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of the Heart. Turn around fella, and fuck off to the back of the line.

Service Diservice

2008-07-30T23:19:00.002+05:30

In the gym and working out my body and realising that my mind is in good health.

A rich lady finishes her workout. Evidence of exertion is minimal, only a light sheen and she still has the strength for an imperious gate across the changing rooms. With the flick of a head she summons the gym sprite to attend to her. Entering the shower cubicle, all that can be seen is a flying display of dicarded garments flung out the door for the unfortunate sprite to gather. When the sprite has the temerity to leave this crucial post and gather scattered clothing into the lady's gym bag, she is returned to the continuing aerial display by a curt click of the fingers.

I left the gym knowing that my shock and disbelief at this performance means that I still have a healthy perspective on reality.

Cow Consumers

2008-07-25T11:00:00.003+05:30

Had a bit of difficulty getting into the corner shop last night. Some cows were hanging about outside; like hoodies making trouble in a precint.

And then the pigs got involved as well. Troublemakers.

Kanwar Yatra

2008-07-25T10:38:00.004+05:30

It's Kanwar Yatra time again. The time when thousands of devotees to Lord Shiva make a pilgrimmage to Hardiwar in the Hindu monsoon month of Shravan to collect water from The Ganges river and transport it back to their home town.

Hardiwar is in the Himalaya Foothills to the North East of Delhi. Then men, clad in orange clothes and many barefoot, trek about 250 km carrying the Kanwar, the name of the decorated yoke they use to transport the water. It is not allowed to touch the ground and so special stands are built at the temporary rest houses that spring up alongside the Highway to help the pilgrims.

The orange masses make quite a contrast against the metal and glass commuter scenes of Gurgaon.

Heavy Glow

2008-07-22T20:39:00.000+05:30

On my way from gym to office when the blackberry winks at me to announce a new mail:

Are you able to come to office and have your photo taken?

Err ...

Seems like we have some professional snaps to pose for. Flushing horror upon realising that my post-gym pink face and ponytail wet barnet did not combine into a good look. I'm not ashamed to say folks that I went home to get my GHDs and most matte foundation.

Managed to control myself into a presentable manner and appeared at the office. Horror once again as the a/c was broken. It's 35 degrees! The security guard was handing out towels at reception*.

Posing for the camera required constant face pat downs to prevent an unfortunate glossy sheen beaconing out from my boat race. Depending on the outcome, I may share the final shots on the blog. Depends how quickly photoshop can be used.
* slight exaggeration

Three Bulls

2008-07-19T23:33:00.001+05:30

They made us do it.

Shocking

2008-07-13T18:31:00.002+05:30

Ah The Palms. Always fun.

Today we had an unfortunate pool sprite fixing the underwater lights. With the pool still filled with water and a heavy rain shower coming down. We were sure the electricity would be turned off but one light kept flickering on and off. We felt it best to remain out of the water until the electrical tampering was completed.

Hair-raising Monsoon Experience

2008-07-13T18:22:00.005+05:30

Round at a friends for a BBQ yesterday. It was horribly humid and eventually, mercifully, the weather broke and the rains came down. An absoulte thumping of a shower but many of us preferred to remain seated outside to benefit from the cool drenching. Quite refreshing, even with wet pants. Also got to take in a spectacular show of lightning as it made long, horizontal forks across the black sky.

There was a downside to this meteorological marvel in that my hair was now washed and was drying precariously without conditioner or serum. Thankfully I left when my hair was still damp but was horrified back home to find my fringe had done a Medusa and sprung up in an alarming defiance of gravity.

Trash

2008-07-13T12:34:00.002+05:30

Ladies rejoice. Trash mags from the UK have come to Delhi. Revert to Khan Market. Don't be ashamed.

Stop your engines

2008-07-12T12:45:00.000+05:30

Heading into Delhi on the Highway and a massive monsoon shower is thrown down.

The traffic snarls up into a jam. Why? All the motorcyclists have stopped under a bridge to shelter from the rain. They're lined up across the lanes like they are waiting for a race to start.

Only one lane is free for other vehicles to squeeze through.

You spin me right round

2008-07-09T10:36:00.003+05:30

TV screen, now you see it . . .

We've uncovered another wonder in The Gurg. A revolving restaurant.

That's right, style fans. Top notch dining elegance. Actually the experience was mildly unsettling. After taking our seat, we considered that there was something not quite right about the setting and with horror and amusement we realised we were on the move.

Agonisingly slow movement around - about 1mm per second - but fast enough to be noticeable and so made us slightly nauseous. Visitor Simon was distracted by the TV screens on the static walls and imagining the dismay of punters taking their seats to watch a football match only to realise 20 mins later that they had moved beyond site of the screen. Not to worry, another 20mins and they could see the action again.

The rotation was less than smooth and our discussion was punctuated with various clangs, thumps and shudders as we spun. We considered that a cow was beneath us, pulling the floor around.

Neigh Chance

2008-07-09T10:34:00.002+05:30

Very dubious product found in our local supermarket.

I certainly didn't fancy this packet of gloopy gravy, of suspicious equine origins.

Life is better with mangoes

2008-07-09T00:25:00.001+05:30

Mango season is coming to an end.

Sad news. India loves its mangoes and shops are in a state of excitement when the fruit is in season. Yesterday we held a tasting session in the office, nibbling on Langra, Chausa, Dusshera and Durga. Who knew there were so many types? I was favouring the Langra - not to sweet, not too tangy.

It's quite wonderful to live in a place where fruit is in season. In the UK you can buy mangoes whenever you like, but there is nothing like getting them fresh. The ones that travel tend to be the most robust and sinewy. The fresh ones here, bruising with juice wouldn't last.

Sadly, the colder weather this year meant that the crop yield was 50% less than expected. Mangoes need their heat.

The finer things in life

2008-07-06T22:42:00.004+05:30

Attended a mate's BBQ last night.

I decided to really go to town and display the finest British cuisine. That's right: pineapple and cheese on a stick. True class.

I tried to explain to some Brazilian friends of ours that this is a traditional British buffet treat. They seemed less than impressed. I am pleased to report that most of it was scoffed before the night ended.

The Third Invader

2008-07-06T22:31:00.003+05:30

I had my place sprayed to remove cockroaches a month ago.

So far, so good.

Until today when I returned home to find an upturned struggling varmint in my bathroom. It was nestled behind the toilet so I couldn't stamp on it. Fortunately, it seemed stunned and dying so the anti-bug matter is still working. However, I wanted this one deceased. But how to remove it from sanctuary of the toilet rear?

Cunningly, I plugged in the hair dryer and blew the beast across the floor into open space. Squish. Job done.

You can take my breath away

2008-07-04T09:55:00.003+05:30

Saw the worst live entertainment I have ever seen in The Gurg on Monday night.

At The Fox where most of these things happen. A weedy guy with a laptop and guitar sat nervously on a stool murdering power ballads and rock classics. There was something not quite right but it took us an age to figure out he was miming to both the vocals and the guitar. Took us an age as occasionally he would sing a couple of lines just to keep up the illusion.

We should have realised as he went from Shaggy's Jamaican twang to Bryan Adams' throaty growl to Enrique Iglesias' hispanic croon without changing expression. Or without even having an expression. Truly awful and our entire party stopped their conversation and turned to the stage to watch. Like a car crash.

Why did it have to be snakes?

2008-07-01T16:41:00.007+05:30

Alarming news upon opening the Times of India today.

Does anyone have the number for the snake hotline?

Pleasant Delhi Sunday

2008-07-01T15:56:00.006+05:30

Champagne brunch, thunderstorm over the city sights and an idol on a truck.

Mystery Object

2008-06-27T18:59:00.003+05:30

While in terrifying maze of household goods known as Big Bazaar (like Argos or Target on crack) hunting for a cheese grater, we saw an interesting selection of cookware.

Let's spice things up for a Friday afternoon dear reader(s). Can you guess what this object is used for?

The winner gets a bottle of Kingfisher Strong and some masala peanuts.

Grouch

2008-06-27T18:48:00.004+05:30

I have been in a foul mood this week.

Toothache and painful root canal. Monsoon gloom and dripping humidity. Glastonbury Festival and I'm not there.

However, today The Gurg put a smile on my face. Sarah and I decided to do a bit of retail action at lunchtime (had to hunt down a cheese grater if you're interested). Went to this temple to shopping called Ambi Mall which is a km long and quite terrifying.

All sorts of confusion as we appeared to be following a giant shaggy bear. Closer and cautious inspection revealed that in fact we were following a man dressed as a giant shaggy bear. Ah, The Gurg. Never what you expect.

Touched a nerve

2008-06-27T18:38:00.003+05:30

I am Scottish therefore I have terrible teeth.

Raised from birth on a diet of irn bru and Tunnock's tea cakes. I am normally very good about going to the dentist to keep the decay at bay, but with all the hullabaloo about moving to India, I've quite forgotten to go. For 18 months. A year and a half of badness building up. Unsurprisingly, a toothache developed.

Dentistry is very good here. And very cheap. I got my entire skull x-rayed for £3.50. Alas, the results proved expensive. 3 teeth under attack, including one requiring urgent root canal. Gulp.

And so I went to see the orthodontist. Initial 'teething problems' [honk!] when he said Iwouldn't need an injection. I said, 'I may be the layman here, but isn't a root canal about removing the nerves and therefore touching the nerves?' He said yes, but if it has decayed it should not respond. Hmmn.

I let him continue and he drilled all the way down without contact. However, at the bottom he literally struck a nerve and it was all I could do to avoid leaping onto the ceiling, twitching and swearing like a sailor on shore leave. Two jabs followed and then a dropping of something excruciating and then numbing inside the tooth as well.

So, I now have to wait for a week to see if the deadened tooth is the root cause of my discomfort. If not, then the one next to it will have to be exorcised as well. For now, I just have a stump with a temporary dressing on it. A hillbilly smile.

Wake Up!

2008-06-27T17:53:00.004+05:30

Flying has been good recently. Popped back to the UK for the weekend without any major traumas.

The entire round trip airfare only cost me £100 as I used my Virgin miles, including booking the return in Upper Class. Extravagant? Yes, but anything to make flying less of a trauma: for example, free champagne. I even got my haircut in the Upper Class lounge. The Upper Class cabin is all about space and free champagne and space. If I don't get agitated, I really quite enjoy flying.

At least that was until I read this article in The Times of India yesterday. A plane overshot Mumbai airport as apparently the two pilots fell asleep at the wheel and could only be wakened by ATC ringing an alarm bell in the cockpit. Recent regulation changes mean pilots are allowed less time to rest between flights. Hmmn. Wish I hadn't known that.

Censored in the city

2008-06-22T17:44:00.002+05:30

An amusing girlie outing to the cinema to see Sex and the City.

The film was amusing but so were the edits made to ensure the content was appropriate for the demure Ladies of India. Several scenes ended abruptly. Typically involving Samantha who was tantalisingly on the verge of saying or doing something deliciously racy and then - jump - we were whisked off to a new scene and back to content about shoes and handbags. And what lovely shoes and bags they were.

If someone could let me know what we missed, perhaps by email as opposed to open comments?

Motivational Speaker

2008-06-22T11:35:00.002+05:30

People here can sometimes speak with a frankness that can be refreshing, although occasionally alarming.

After stumbling off the treadmill yesterday, red-faced, knackered but feeling pleased with myself, I was approached by one of the gym trainers.

She looked me up and down and said "Madam you are very fat, but you have nice legs".

Right, thanks for that.

Monsoon Buffoon

2008-06-19T23:19:00.000+05:30

So back to India and the monsoon has arrived. Two weeks early. The earliest Delhi monsoon in 108 years.

Growling skies and steaming heat. Not good for the barnet. Also, not good for the balance. I fell off a pavement, rendered wobbly by flooding, and sunk my left leg into a ditch. I got a muddy foot, a scraped ankle and a red face. The Tower sprites were pissing themselves laughing at me as I stood with one foot disappeared into a hole in the ground.

Got any ropey lager?

2008-06-19T23:12:00.005+05:30

Another exciting festival experience was the Carling Cold Beer Amnesty.

The concept is simple. Rock up with any can of beer (warm, dubious) and Lo! it will be exchanged for a cold Carling. It's Carling, but at least it's cold. You can even do this with, for example, 24 cans of supermarket lager (retail price £6 for 24). Admittedly, they do judge you with a withering stare but the transaction is still valid.

Sun Scar

2008-06-19T23:00:00.006+05:30

You'd think, living in India, I'd be good in the sun.

Alas no. The blazing sun above the Isle of Wight seared through my repeated applications of factor 25 and branded my face. I was wearing a headband, which I carefully placed above my hairline, but alas it slipped down during the day leaving a bold line as evidence of my misfortune. I only realised as people kept pointing and laughing at me during the day. Gah!

I was saved by a friend's (Make Up by Sandar) careful and repeated application of a foundation and blusher combination that hid the damage for the remaining days.

Let me take you down

2008-06-19T22:49:00.003+05:30

If you are looking for an easy way to do festival camping, I have the answer for you.

Check out Tangerine Fields. They hire you a tent for the weekend. No lugging of heavy bags, no agony of lost pegs, no fury of lost tempers, no taking down of wet tents in the rain and no airing of musty tents in the garden. A genius idea. Makes the fest truly relaxing. The campsite was a little bit Stepford, we nick-named it Wisteria Lane, but I'd rather have order than some saucer-eyed goon stumbling on top of my tent at 4am.

Never mind the bollocks

2008-06-19T22:34:00.005+05:30

Lots of old school bands played over the weekend.

During James' set I had a momentary panic as I flashed back to 1993 and I thought I had not yet read Ulysses in time for my English lit tutorial. (Still haven't read it).

The Police? Well, interesting and nice to have seen them. Bit of a tick box and not much more. They didn't seem to bring much passion or showmanship; just tidy musicianship. Here is Sting having a nice cup of coffee. Pleasant. Of course, we all roared along to the classics, especially Roxanne.

The Sex Pistols. Very curious to see them. Incongrous to have a band characterised by rage against The Man headlining one of the more civilised, corporate fests. Jonny Rotton was brilliant - a filthy seaside postcard of a man in a long victorian nightshirt. Full of tongue-in-cheek bile and banter; sneering at everyone from indie bands (poncy homo bands fucking calamity) to the police (bumholes in blue) to the middle class. Very amusing as we all roared out I wanna be anarchy while sipping our Jacobs Creek.

My God, Pretty Vacant was fantastic. Yes, they are getting on a bit but their 3-chord monster noise assualt was absolutely thrilling and very, very LOUD! Yeah!

There's no point in asking, you'll get no reply ...

2008-06-19T22:04:00.010+05:30

as to why I decided to do an impossible journey for a long weekend, but I need to get my rock n' roll fix, man.

Fly to London, train to Paddington, tube to Waterloo, train to Southampton, ferry to Cowes, taxi to Newport and safe arrival in time for beer o'clock at the Isle of Wight Festival.

An excellent opportunity for buffoonery under canvas and music in the open air. A nice cup of tea and a bacon roll in the tent for breakfast. Lovely. A very civilised festival. It is worth noting the quality of the toilets. A different type of punter, taking a lot of care and attention in cleaning up after themselves and proudly presenting the vacated loo for the next user. Quite unexpected, especially when one nice lady said to me 'there you are love, you'll not find a nicer one in the entire site'. She was right. Extraordinary.

Not the best line up. A bit patchy. Kaisers always amazing. The Enemy, Zutons and Wombats great. The Kooks once again shambolic. Let us not discuss the horror that was Kate Nash or the disappointment of a huffy and possibly concussed Ian Brown not doing any Stone Roses numbers. He is dead to me now. I also won't discuss in public how good Scouting for Girls were. Ahem. In my defence I was charmed as the singer introduced one song with the intro from He-Man: By the power of Greyskull!

And, amazingly, it didn't rain. There was a 10 second period on Sunday afternoon when it looked like it might, but it didn't. A joy.

You're Fired

2008-06-07T18:24:00.004+05:30

Life is imitating art.

We're obsessed with The Apprentice; a UK TV show featuring a weekly cavalcade of business bufoonery. Unfortunately the bad habits of the contestants seem to be rubbing off on us. We've started putting our mobiles on speakerphone and holding them before us.

Last night we felt that things had gone to far. After a frothy night out in our local bar, where we ended up crashing a party and taking advantage of free drinks, we decided we needed more booze and stopped at the 'English Beer and Wine' shack at the bottom of our road. What followed was a less than skillful negotiation for a discount on a purchase of 4 bottles of wine.

The owner was resolute about not budging and wanted 2500 Rupees (£30). An outrage for ropey Indian wine. I wanted to pay 2000 but started off at 1500. After a few ping-pongs one of our group, who shall remain nameless to protect their professional integrity, marched up from the rear and announced dramatically:

We will not pay more than 2400!

Right, kinda stepped all over my position there. The owner was bemused, but obviously delighted at our unusual and confusing bargaining position. We salvaged a price of 2300 and left in shame.

This morning we concluded that Sirallun would have fired us both. My colleague for her dramatic commerical goof, and me for not taking charge of the situation and letting events spiral terribly out of control. A lesson for us both.

Swanning Around

2008-06-04T21:11:00.002+05:30

The legendary company sailing weekend scouts for an Indian location

The Age of the Train

2008-06-04T01:09:00.004+05:30

My goodness, Indian trains have changed.

After driving down from the hills, I was expecting a wearying 4 hour train journey back to Delhi. But no! The Shatabdi Express surpassed all expectations.

Modern layout with acres of legroom. Best of all, before we'd even left the station we were served a plentiful high tea with hot water in our own personal vaccuum flask to keep the tea coming.

2 hours before shoogling into Delhi an unexpected 3 course dinner was served. A watery veg curry but quite welcome and no bowel implications to follow.

Train travel into Delhi alas means negotiating Delhi Railway Station: a phython-esque street theatre of bedlam. As we left the platform we had to dodge a team of small boys playing football with an upturned cockroach. A live one at that. All was saved as steady driver Balwan was there to greet us and ferry us home in one piece.

Shimla: History, Hills & Gin

2008-06-04T00:49:00.006+05:30

Shimla was wonderful.

A town built impossibly on a ridge 2100m high in the central Himalaya and taken over by the Brits as escape from the Delhi furnace. Outrageous colonial buildings.

Beautiful weather - blue skies and breeze.

Some light hiking and rafting down a river lined with bat-hanging trees and an Indiana Jones style rope-bridge. Including a thrilling bit when we tumbled out of the raft and were encouraged to float over some gentle rapids with nothing but a life-jacket for protection. It occured to me as I bobbed along in the icy current that life couldn't be better.

Elephant Attack!

2008-06-04T00:43:00.002+05:30

In the national park our guide was a bit of a show off.

We passed an elephant (as you do) and the guide started getting out a bit of naan and waving it at the beast. It ambled over, but as the guide was being too slow, the elephant pushed his trunk in the guys chest aggressively and then stepped forward crushing the guide against the roll bar of the jeep! The guide let out an agonised scream and with what may have been his dying breath called for the driver to step on it. He gunned the engine and roared away and we escaped. We sat like statues in the back, slightly stunned. Both thrilling and scary.

Don't mess with elephants, they will take you out.

Cowboying Up in Corbett

2008-06-04T00:24:00.006+05:30

So, after our riot-detour, we ended up in Corbett National Park.

We did an elephant and a jeep safari and saw some wildlife, but, well, if you have got yourself excited about seeing tigers, monkeys, big lizards and deer don't really do it for you. Plus our guides well hell-bent on fleecing us at every turn which was frankly exhausting.

We did see evidence of tigers; a footprint by a river. Frankly, I was so jaded at that point I was convinced that it was a park sprite with a fake foot on a stick that had planted it instead of the real beast.

Change of Plan

2008-05-25T01:06:00.002+05:30

I'm on holiday.

I was supposed to be heading down to Rajasthan today to Ranthambore to see tigers. All set to catch the train this evening. Then my travel agent called to say the train was cancelled due to a murderous riot in Rajasthan. Eh?

All travel in Jaipur has been blocked and the situation was expected to get worse before it got better. We were not advised to take the long way round to Ranthambore as the situation was very volatile and even if we got there, we might not be able to make it back to continue our holiday. I asked my travel agent what we could do and they replied that, as it was 6 pm on Saturday night, they were closed for the weekend. Thank-you. Very sorry. Goodbye. Eh?

So, after indulging in some despair I took decisive action and phoned a more rogue travel agent contact of mine who pulled dubious strings in under 2 hours on a Saturday night to get us a car and hotel in Corbett National Park leaving tomorrow. Miracle worker. Less chance of seeing tigers, but better than spending my holiday in The Tower.

This place is crawling with animals

2008-05-25T00:56:00.005+05:30

In honour of the Indiana Jones movie being released this weekend (when is it coming to India? When? When!?) we decided to a little adventuring of our own in Delhi.

Back to Humayoun's Tomb and exploring a secret passage that I missed first time. We had to climb a dark, steep staircase. My mate said she was sure she felt something brush past her face. Sure enough, when we reached the top step we had enough sunlight to see the cause of the brushing. Bats.

They were mostly sleeping and I was torn between having a right good look or fleeing in a flap of limbs. Bravely we decided to stare and insanely take a camera photo - in full knowledge that the flash could have caused a winged attack.

We got out unscathed but were very careful not to put our hands on the wall when descending the giant steps for fear of grabbing a rubbery wing. Eek.

Nature's Fury

2008-05-21T01:32:00.002+05:30

1:30 in the morning and I am snapped awake by an almighty racket. Another 'cyclonic disturbance' has roared in from Rajasthan.

The howling of 1000 stove kettles all boiling at once. The clattering smash of corrugated tin being ripped from roofs. The wailing of car alarms rocked into protest. The death rattle of my dubious windows shaken in their frames. Growls of thunder and an incessant strobe of lightning.

The howling noise is created by the wind rushing in the open windows in the lift lobby on my 14th floor perch. I tried to open my front door to experience it but the wind had created such a vaccuum that I had to brace my foot against the door frame to prise the door open. A gust then ripped it from my grasp and slammed it shut with a terrible bang.

I don't mind admitting, it's a little bit scary.