Yog(a)hurt
Yo-seph!
Still hating India some days and absolutely swearing I’ll never leave other days….
Here are the latest (mis)adventures.
After the excesses of food, near misses with bulls and Right Said fFedness of Hampi something of a detox was to be had at the Honey Valley retreat. Completely in the middle of nowhere, we rocked up and spied a tourist info place, as we entered they all dived behind the counter as it appeared, heavens above, there were some tourists in their shop. Peeping out from behind the counter, they gingerly (honeyly) asked if we’d like to buy some honey, um no, we are after directions. Fortunately they had a computer and googled the town we were in showing us pictures on the screen, um yes, we know we’re here already….Onto a local bus and we were on the look out for a Guiness representative as it appeared to be ‘how many people can you fit into a small metal tin’ every 3 seconds a ‘lively’ armpit was pushed into your nostril cavity’s and I sub-conciously found myself giving them marks out of ten for bobby orange aroma’s. Then we had to wait and drool, whilst watching the bus driver eat his lunch for a whole 45 minutes. In preparation for some hiking we ate copious amounts of vegetables in an all you can munch capacity this then follows with an all you can fart till your bottom wears out it’s voice box. The hiking was splendid save for the part where I walked into a barb wire fence at full pelt, saved only by my legs resembling that of a chicken. On our return we were informed that leopards and snakes run free like young hearts. Which was obviously pleasing.
Been giving yoga a big swerve so far until the plebs next door to me started at 6am, curious I peaked out, and the bloke just had his eyes closed and was blowing his schnozz in an alarming manner for about an hour and chanting. I think Lemsip could be in trouble. First of our two encounters came in the form of ‘Laughing Yoga’. Absolute class. Up at 7am to hear some bloke chanting ‘1,2,3, Laughter is for Free’ and ‘East or West, Laughter is the Best’ then he proceeded to imitate Kangaroos, mobile phones, computers with a laugh designated for pretty much every country going. The ‘real’ Yoga was probably similar to the first in that you would have pissed yourself at my complete inadequacy. First of all the bloke started off by chanting ‘Om’ lots, this stirred my breakfast appetite and I found myself chanting ‘om nom, nom, nom’ at the thought of a sausage sambo. Alas, it was not to be as I got everything the wrong way round, couldn’t sit on a pile of towels, stretch or indeed balance on my hands. I lay the blame squarely on my spandex suit I’d had made especially. I think I have also found the official food for Yoga, Yog-hurt of course, because well, it bloody does.
I’m not gay section – more culture in the form of an Aythuric Massage, little did I realize I’d have to strip naked and be beaten up by two men whilst covered in something that smelt like the seasoning they put on spicy wedges. Quick rub of the arms and then wallop a slap on the back. Quick rub of the legs and then bend all my toes back. Terrific fun. About as relaxing as falling into an Indian squat toilet.
Some full on bus journeys with simply the worst roads ever. Trying a sneaky bogie clear out on the back seat was a small disaster as the jolts repeatedly forced my finger up and out of my eye socket.
Cochin – Saw a Kathakali show – (traditional dance) where men dressed as women and was all kind of silent save for various hand gestures which were explained to the crowd. Strangely the only one I can recall was the cupping of an imaginary breat – which signified what else but boobs!
Witnessed the best ever shouting match on bus, getting louder and louder until they couldn’t shout any louder before mumbling went to grumbling to talking to bellowing and other verbs to describe talking.
Did a backwaters tour, which was much better than the front waters. Scorching hot, fancied a dip until we spied a water snake. Blokes in water half submerged brushing their teeth with a finger (their own, not a Cadburys one or indeed someone elses). Ate lunch from a banana leaf with my hands which was solid as I’m left handed and you’re not meant to eat with it because that’s the one you use to wipe your behind. I couldn’t help it though and left a few locals open-mouthed with some ‘ooo nutty’ and ‘is that sweetcorn? it is true then’ comments.
Lost another third of a toenail after neglecting to realize rocks are called rocks because they are rock hard, booting it, and now looking like I’m undecided as to whether to be a goth as I have one toe nail painted black.
Tested my fatness on a machine and was surprised to learn that I was only 5’7. I’m now auditioning for Top Gun 2: Goose – Back From The Dead, replacing Midget Cruise.
Drank cocunut beer (which looked and probably tasted like jizz – Moorsey: I’ll get you some to confirm)
Noted India friendliness as they saw we had a dilemma with our rubbish on a train, they simply bundled it all up and threw it out of the window before looking over with a big smile. An angry recycling lecture followed from an outraged Kiwi.
Did bodysurfing for days, followed by licking of graizes for the following days.
Went out the southernmost point in India, which was Southerly. Where men poo’ed freely on the jetty rocks. Presumably setting recors for the most Southernly poo’s in India. Followed by …….
You had to be there: Great Moment #1. Got chatting to this old dude who informed me he was the Samose master and had been making them for 20 years, instantly I spotted his mouth and what constituted for teeth, if you were someone who’d been eating sugar coated poo’s for the last 20 years, we exchanged tales of families and cricket with me dieing to ask ‘so do you have any TEETH (children), are you TEETHED (married) India are really good at YELLOW MOULD STUMPS OF TEETH (cricket) TEETHY, TEETHY, TEETH! Then he uttered the greatest line – “Before making Samosas I was trained to be a dentist”. I was flabbergasted and looked at him with an open mouth of significantly better looking teeth. He then pissed himself (at his own joke). Told you you had to be there.
Sports: Watched Cricket at the birthday party for the minister of states son’s 57th bday. Rather politically his son was awarded ( fat and rubbish) man of the match despite being fat and rubbish. Also saw Hockey as India destroyed Belgian 3-2. Was strange the ice seemed to have melted and they didn’t even have roller-skates on.
Sorry this is crap.
I’m in The Andamans now which is very much like a can of Lilt in that it’s TOTALLY TROPICAL
mUCH lOVE
jIMMY XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Tags: Cochin, Coorg, India, Varkala, Yoga
jamesbriggs11
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