An Email From India
Oct 6th - Oct 18th 2006

In October 2006, Julien (aged 26) went to India with the intention of spending 5 months there (that's the length of the air-ticket). Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, he was able to frequently communicate with the family at home (that's mainly me - Paul - Dad). Rather bizarrely, we fell into a peculiar literary style which we found entertaining, so I thought maybe others will too...

As luck would have it, he finally found a reasonably well-paid job that he really liked doing (a first on both accounts there) - but it was a 6 month contract. The very week he decided to go travelling at the end of his contract, as there was nothing looming and he was free of all commitments and attachments de coeur - was the week that his bosses wanted talk to him about extending his contract. There was much conflicting advice sought and unsought by all and sundry, but ultimately, it came to "If I don't go now, I'll never go", so off he went.

He didn't go alone, but with a friend Ed - they both bought a return ticket to Mumbai and so the scene was set.

Welcome to India!

OK, so I reckon you're probably at Heathrow now - but you'll be in India when you read this - isn't the internet wonderful!

Hope the trip was smooth and that the culture shock isn't too great yet - wish I was there to see it too.

Don't forget if in doubt, clench the buttocks - you can't go far wrong.

Pa

Hello. Just to put your minds at ease, we arrived jetlagged and weary yesterday evening at 11.20pm (6.30 UK). The experience has been a lot less intense than originally expected, although it's still very early doors and I'm still seriously jetlagged. Anyway, let Mum and Niall know that I'm not dead yet and that my bowels are still in working order. (Why only this lunchtime I passed my first solid in India. The first of many to come, Krishna willing.)

I'm going to go and look at some things now. Mumbai smells awfully similar to Mombasa.

Peace be upon you.

Glad to hear you're in one piece. Mummy voiced the question "I wonder what Julien's doing right now" earlier. Niall thought you were probably being mugged, while I betted on the toilet option. It didn't seem to comfort her...

Mummy and Niall then argued about who should be the official custodian of print-outs of Bubbub's emails - neither argument was convincing to me as they discussed the merits of their respective record keeping facilities - Niall's room and Mummy's drawer.

I hope that tomorrow will bring myriad novel smells to your nostrils. Remember, don't have any spicy foreign food and watch out for the darkies.

Looking forwards to my first weekly present.

Hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it - you can always refer to it as an example of Western-Decadent-Imperialism if held at knife-point by a thugee.

Pa

Arrived in Goa yesterday after a pretty hairy rickshaw journey to the wrong airport. The taxi driver on the way to the hotel offered to provide us with a prostitute each, which we graciously declined. 5000 Rupees a night is steep even for Brighton standards.

Hired bikes today and drove along the coast and into Anjuna - a town not dissimilar to St. Neots' Indian quarter. The roads may be a touch hectic, but the general survival technique seems to be beep your horn and keep your eyes peeled. What larks.

Much as I hate to disappoint, both Ed and I are still passing regular movements. So much so Ed suggested naming ourselves the So Solid Crew. I'm inclined to agree.

The food in Goa is truly incredible. Why only last night, over my tiger prawn bilchao, I could swear I saw the face of Vishnu. (In retrospect, I suppose it could have been Shiva.) Over a piping hot chai tea, Ed and I discussed the merits of colonialism and the British Empire before toasting the Queen and retiring for the evening.

Anyway, I'll leave you now tired, hot and thirsty, but in extremely high spirits and keen to see what further adventures unfold.

Long live the Queen.

Hairy rickshaw - now that must be a sight to behold - India truly is the continent of great exotica.

I'm sorry but I don't believe the Anjuna story - Google Earth and our atlas doesn't show any such place - we'll just have to get a map I guess to follow you around. Thought you were spending a few days at the Hari-Krishna temple? Very inspired that there is a place in a far off land that is forever St.Neots, have you been out at night and come back deeply disillusioned? - ah that old town of yours.

So Solid Crew - "pride comes before a squit" - Dr. Johnson. Pleased to hear of your bowel movements nonetheless - old habits die hard. Always carry a toilet roll, useful at unexpected fiestas as an impromptu streamer if nothing else.

Radha says that Goa is one of the most beautiful places on earth - did you get the camera fired up yet? So what are the mid-term plans? Niall and I are off to a dive show in sunny Birmingham this weekend.

Did you state the purpose of your visit at immigration? Expected you to be dined by the Viceroy by now - if you've gone native then recruit a battalion of sepoys - they will stand you in good stead. A stout elephant will be a good position to command them from and make for some good "me on my holidays" pictures. Have you sat next to any exotic nutters on the bus yet? (Ed doesn't count - neither do you for him).

Pater

Greetings from Goa.

The pace has slackened a little since our last communication. No longer struggling against the human tide of Anjuna (it does exist, honest guv...) we have decided to move to marginally calmer pastures. Just outside a town called Margaou, we have found a charming little apartment further south, about five minutes walk from the beach. Banalim to be precise.

We left Calungate (south of Anjuna) a few days ago and headed by bus to Panjim, the capital of Goa. We stayed in a truly horrific hotel replete with bedbugs, mosquitoes and foul - but fading - memories. The city itself was pretty nasty. Everyone seemed righteously pissed off to be there. Including, as I'm sure is obvious, both Ed and I.

In Benalim, we hired some bikes again and travelled, with our Muslim guide Saleem, to the southernmost beach of Goa called Palolem. The beach was about as delightful as any I've seen, but the drive down was absolutely incredible. Rhada is right, after Worthing on Sea, Goa is one of the most stunning places on earth.

We plan to head back for Diwali which starts this Saturday. Unfortunately, Goa is largely Christian so I'm not sure how much it will be celebrated. Still, Ed and I have made some makeshift fireworks out of driftwood and petrol to mark the occasion, so hopefully it should go(a) with a bang. Forgive me. This heat is getting to me.

I regret to inform you that we have already failed in our primary objective of avoiding all fellow (dare I say it) travellers. We call them "Whiteys" over here. It seems not all Americans are cretins, although most of them are, and not everyone from Wiltshire is inbred (based on a cursory search for webbed fingers, thumbs on the spine and eyebrows on the cheeks) although most of them are. I'll spare you the tiresome details, however,. suffice to say a most pleasant time has been spent so far.

You'll be delighted to hear, I'm sure, that despite the occasional "artists' spat" Ed and I are still committed members of the So Solid Crew. So much so that I believe Ed to have been constipated for a few days. He wouldn't admit it, but with my amateur medical credentials and keen eye for such things, I'm pretty sure my diagnosis is correct. It would certainly explain the surly behaviour and "lie downs" that he's been having. Now if only I could find those rectal sedatives...

Anyway, all is still very well here: So far I have: touched an elephant, gone to a spice garden, had an argument with a certain "Mr. Nice", nearly driven into a heard of cows, bought three pairs of trousers - on separate occasions and which didn't fit - and found a cockroach in the sink. I have not seen any monkeys.

All is well.

p.s. It seems the Viceroy is an old school friend of yours. The ruddy-faced gent was absolutely thrilled to make the acquaintance of the son of his old Harrow polo partner and insisted on throwing a most elaborate soiree in your honour. I confess to being a little giddy on the champagne, but I could have sworn he mentioned you had both fought in the Crimea...

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