Very Smelly Delhi Belly
Right still miles behind with updates, waiting for a bus, so here goes again….
Having real problems understanding Indian English, kids coming up to you and asking for ‘chikum’?? you want some chicken? Do I look like Colonel Sanders, in reality what they were after was ‘chewing gum’. Same when a driver shook my hand and said ‘my heap’. Yes, thanks your help was very much appreciated, him repeating ‘my heap’. Again, excellent help my friend before it dawned on me that ‘my heap’ translates better as my tip. Jeeeeeeeees (not cheese, an abb. of Jesus)
Onto Pushkar then, a spiritual town where the Ghostbusters obviously haven’t been as this remains intact, annoyingly overflowing with western hippy’s who are down with the vibe but all wear daft baggy trousers and colourful patterned tops. Here a young girl in our hostel asked my name, James, I replied cheerily, ah James Bond she said. Yeah, that’s me I thought before attempting to run up some stairs and tripping up, whilst hoping no-one noticed. Yeah, classic Bond…Also we sat down with the owner and shared jokes, after telling a few, he went on the mother of all joke telling tales, absolutely pissing himself at his own jokes, cutting ours off halfway and ripping out another stinker. Eg. Him: You know eggs? Us: Yes. Him:Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahaha waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahaha. Us: Oh yes, haha. Is that the time?
Next, Jaisalmer. A dessert town where they sell only puddings. No, sorry a desert town with a big fort (not boyard). We checked into the Jane Cobb affiliated ‘Swastika Hotel’ expecting to see Hitler and being rather suspicious of the showers, instead we learnt this is a sign that actually means ‘good travels’. True. Out into the desert then for a camel safari, which was smashing. My camel was a bit of a tyke and had to have his gob taped up because he kept trying to eat the other camels, he was also rather adept with his mud trumpet and knocked out a fair few one vocal burst sounding similar to the Inspector Gadget theme tune. Night came, as did the ghost stories from our guide, women with feet pointing the wrong way (I was parping it slonks) and teeth like tombstones (asho). Had a bash at making chapatti which is like a frisbee but made of bread, scoffed curry and then settled down to watch the stars, slowly moving across the still night sky, with no sound to be heard, save for a slight gasp as a shooting star whizzed by. Beautiful. Then something crawled across the bottom of the blanket. PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRP. Going against my first instinct of screaming and sticking my head in the sand (good one ostriches) I booted the offending thing, peaking up, it was a dog whining something along the lines of ‘you git, ow, woof, I’m off to call the RSPCA, whine, woof”
Back to Delhi and a return to having a small coal mine of blackness up each nostril. Then by local bus to Corbett National Park. The local bus was dusty, bumpy but mostly funny, as you settled into dreamworld before the window was slid back from the outside and water, bhaji’s, nuts, inflatable hammers etc were shoved through the window for us to purchase. Upon arrival, it was disappointing to note that Ronnie Corbett was in no way affiliated with the park, instead we’d have to make do with wildlife, boooooooo. Supposed to be tiger’s there, but seemingly he was busy with kellogs as the only thing we saw were footprints, fresh that day apparently….Yes fresh, as some guy had walked around with tiger print things on his hand. Was rather good though as we saw deer, tortoises, vultures, owls and elephants, heard the trunk noise for real as well, apparently they eat for 16 hours a day, judging by the size of some of the brown boulders in the road, it seems they poo for the other 8. The monkeys sit cross legged, look down, scratch, play with their cocks, and scratch again. Class. Perhaps we’re not that evolved after all.
Oh, Happy Christmas by the way! To prove my sincerity here’s a Christmas present for you all introducing the ‘Briggs Belly Buster Program’….tried and tested by my good self.
First sit on a local bus for 7 hours and ‘come on, come on, feel the vibration’ as your stomach as rattled in the same way as one of those electric shock pads, producing rock hard muscles with a slight nausea side effect. Then consume the local buffet before retiring to bed. Lads, here comes the really clever bit. At 2am proceed to the toilet with a mild belly grumble. Sit, poo. Now, feel nausea defying gravity, note impending barf, grab nearest available vessel, in my case, a jug for splashing your behind with. Hold under mouth and barf violently. Et voila….multi-tasking and instant weight loss.
Un-sodding believable!
Other stuff:
Mobile Phones: They’ve all just got one, f*ck me, it’s like those gits on trains back home who play with their ring tones on full blast, times that by a billion people….
Hot water: Is usually a bucket of cold water, where someone has rubbed the bucket to generate warmth, for 6 seconds.
Haggling: Is fun and easy, except when your travel companion, instantly up’s your first bid, to make it fairer on the trader…….
Male affection: Is hilarious, Blokes walk the streets hand in hand or lie in each other’s laps, all the while portraying an image of ‘man is powerful god, woman is beast for reproducing’ (Moorsy/Elliott you’d love it)
I have 3 kids watching me writing this now, I’m not sure why. This sort of thing sums up India thus far. Currently in Mumbai (mumblei) and heading to Goa tonight to sneak up behind blissed out hippies and tango them.
Wishing you all a Mary Christmas and a Happy Hardcore New Year.
Male affection for the women and spitting for the blokes.
Briggsy xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Tags: , Camels, Corbett N.P., India, Jaisalmer, Tigers
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