Chennai 4th – 6th Feb 2005

The bus journey to Chennai takes us north-bound along the coast road, here we are witness to more tsunami relief camps. One thing that strikes me is that the relief camps have been located on the thin strip of land between the road and the ocean. I would have thought that these people who are more than likely scared shitless of the ocean would have appreciated being located elsewhere in the immediate aftermath. I guess however that they need to be located close to any remaining infrastructure such as schools.

After an unusually efficient bus journey we arrive on time in a bus station miles away from the city centre. We haven’t a clue where we are or how to get into the city as the bus station in brand new and not mentioned in any guide books. All signs are in every Indian dialect accept English, and strangely no-one at the bus station seems to want to help us except for expensive rip off rickshaw drivers. We decide on a Chai break. Two cups of Chai, a couple of Samosa’s and a cigarette later and we are ready to face the world. Getting a bus from the bus station to the city centre turns out to be an impossible mission, involving about three changes, so we decide its time for some hard negotiating with the pesky rickshaw drivers. After playing three drivers off against one another for about half an hour we settle on a rate that although unreasonable, is too little amount of money to loose face over.

A fast white knuckle rickshaw journey through chaotic 8 lane highways, busy shopping streets and no-rules roundabouts and we eventually arrive in the district that we want to stay in only to find all the listed hotels are full. We set off on foot and eventually find a guesthouse with reasonable rooms down long dark corridors.

That afternoon we get our bearings and take a walk around the local area. Chennai is a full on chaotic city with animated streets full off people going about their daily business. Thousand of people everywhere, pavements are a no go zone, you either step on some poor family who sleep there or you fall down a huge hole into the open sewer that blocked with, um Sewage surprisingly! The roads aren’t particularly safe to walk on either, buses, carts, taxi’s, bullock carts, and rickshaws all battling for space with pedestrians. The best place to walk in an Indian city is in the no-mans land between the pavement and the roads, a kind of road side area that everyone lives from but nobody takes responsibility for, this is where people set up carts selling food and chai. Poor families sleep, children and women beg, others repair cycles, and mechanics fix rickshaws, its a maze of total chaos set amoungst tons of rubich and rubble but its just about possible to negotiate you way through it.

Later that evening we go to a restaurant where the staff all appear to think we come from Mars. They must have seen a white person before but they act as if they haven’t. While eating dinner we end up with all 8 of the staff standing a few inches away from out table staring at us. This is something you become accustomed to in India but on this occasion the intrusion seems worse than normal and it become particularly uncomfortable eating. So much so that in the end Scott gets the attention of the head waiter and tries to politely explain to him that it’s a bit off putting having such an audience whilst trying to eat. The head waiter plays dumb and pretends not to understand. Next comes a classic Scott demonstration, he stands up, sits the head waiter in his seat and places his face about 6 inches away and stares at him. The waiter smiles, tells us he is sorry and that he gets the message, he then shouts something to the other waiters and they all move back about 1 pace and continue to stare. Very amusing!

We find a bar on the top floor of the hotel we are staying in and decide to go for a beer. A great decision, this place is hilarious, full of groups of Indian men mincing it up with each other, all showing off, dancing, and shouting. There are large screen TV’s. everywhere all showing fashion TV. A kind of lame excuse of a channel showing endless footage of supermodels in see through underwear, under the pretext of being a fashion channel, it just fills a gap in the market to arouse the sexually frustrated male population. This coupled with alcohol and ridiculously loud Hindu pop music has a strange affect of the punters who seem over friendly to each other and before long are bumping and grinding in the homosexual fashion that only Indian men could. A very funny night indeed.

During the two days at Chennai I didn’t really do any site seeing. Instead I went on a desperate search for an India test match cricket shirt. The one souvenir I decided I wanted from this trip. I thought that in a city of over 6 million, that houses one of the country’s main cricket stadiums, this wouldn’t have been a particularly difficult find. How wrong was I.? It turns out that in the most cricket mad country in the world, with 10% of its population (100 million people) being exceptionally wealthy, the Indian cricket board have failed to see the marketing opportunity for selling replica shirts. Nope. Just poor copies available from street stalls. After exhausting the indoor shopping complexes I make a last ditch effort by visiting the cricket stadium and the official shop. I got a blank look when I asked, a quick wobble of the head and the old school colonial legacy of a gentleman with a huge handlebar moustache explained that they were only available in Mumbai. I don’t bloody believe it! Where’s the entrepreneurial spirit gone for Christ sake. Its not difficult to realize there’s a market and yet even the official shop had nothing. After a long conversation with the old gentleman explaining that I didn’t want to go in the museum I just wanted a shirt, I managed to make my escape. My search was in vain.

On my last night Rob, Scott, Me and four other people who we had met in various places along the way and bumped into again in Chennai, decide to have a night on the town. What??? In Chennai.. not possible, there’s not one single place in the city where we could get a drink later than 11pm. In the end we give up and start walking back to the hotel only to unexpectedly stumble across a mad Muslim street festival. Brightly lit floats were flowing down the narrow streets in the district behind out hotel, The streets were filled with bands playing music and people dancing. Police were walking around abusing their authority by moving anyone on who looked like they might be enjoying themselves. Rival bands stood just feet away from one another playing clashing music, making an overwhelming noise. Generators powering the lights on the floats bellowed clouds of blue smoke into the crowds and the whole scene was complete Indian Chaos. A perfect finally to my trip.. India summed up in one sentence? The maddest country of earth.

The following afternoon I fly to Sri Lanka for a connecting flight to Thailand. My Indian adventure over, and despite all its annoyances, i'm gonna miss this place!