Author: Patricia Ferrier

After our tour of Goa, we are delighted to have found a stretch of beach which has postcard like qualities. Still feeling weak and traumatised from the memory of the evening before with my head in a toilet bowl, I decided to treat myself to a foot and leg massage on the beach. What do you get for 4 euros? ….well it’s not quite the spa like quality we Europeans are accustomed to.,,,, photo to follow….trying not to notice the vegetable cooking oil placed between my legs, I attempted to do some deep breathing techniques in order to survive the assault on my lower limbs…..
When she wanted to know if Dani would also like massage I cheerily said, ” I’m sure she’d love one.” Jumping over the overly large and very angry looking Alsation outside the shack – I gave Dani my purse and said “Go on, treat yourself” 😂😂😂
Had I two spare rashers of bacon in my rucksack I could surely place them on my vegetable oil covered legs and have a full English brekkie in 5 mins 😄

 

Is it really so difficult to take a photo with a mobile phone and sip a can of coke at the same time? for some …..seemingly so. A not so rare “oh mother!!!” moment occurred in Goa this morning. Mobile phone poised, mouth open and Coke aimed at mouth…….photo taken, Coke poured all down front of white t-shirt. Sheepishly turning to face Dani, “oh look Dani, I’ve poured Coke all down me” ….the “oh mother!!!!” moment had arrived. After wearing a pair of socks for four days, I’m secretly looking forward to wearing my Coke stained t-shirt for at least another two – now that’s real backpacking – even paying the price of the “oh mother” moment  👵🏼👵🏼👵🏼

Mumbai truly has some marvels….(the hotel is not one of them!!!).
We had a lovely tour guide Shabbir who took us on a boat to the elephant caves – just the hour long boat trip had you wondering how they will share 5 life jackets among 500 passengers and “elf and safety” would be overjoyed at the horizontal wooden safety bar – aimed at preventing passengers falling off 😂 The 120 steps up the hill to the elephants caves were jogged by Shabbir (I think he’s about 80!!!) I was offered a wooden chair carried by 4 men to get me up there but I declined due to the lack of Chippendale qualities in the carriers.
Once again we were asked to be photographed with the natives of India – my face must adorn many Asian mantelpieces over the past 3 years or at least be immortalized in iCloud somewhere which is quite strange.
Yesterday we had a city tour which included a visit to Mahatma Ghandis residence. Fascinating – of course I bought the book and kept reminding myself not to leave it in the car……
Back in the hotel, I had obviously left the book in the car 😱
At reception the gentleman listened patiently to my plight. He called me his English friend (Dani is his German friend) and went above and beyond the call of duty to retrieve my book. “I will use my personal phone madam my English friend”. Raising his arm and silencing the noisy reception he called head office in Delhi…. In a more than loud voice….”Delhi Delhi, this is Mumbai calling, this is Mumbai calling, my guest mrs Patreesha, she has a problem, I need the number of Virgo tours’ 😳 On receiving this information he promptly rang Virgo tours where the manager said he would retrieve the book and deliver it personally …….and he did!!!!
Today we find ourselves somewhat exhausted after sleeping (or rather not sleeping) in a room with the noise level of a pneumatic drill all night.
Would it be rude to complain after the service they provided in finding my book ? We are all friends after all 🇩🇪🇬🇧🇮🇳

 

My last breakfast at the hostel in the communal kitchen. A total of 50 odd backpackers and not enough stools and once again I was secretly pleased no one offered me theirs as it means a) they think I am still of an age where I am capable of juggling a mug of tea and eating an omelette with no knife and fork without needing to sit or b) they just couldn’t give a shit (more likely) !!!!
I have noticed a great part of young backpackers conversations revolve around 3 topics 1) how much they’ve drunk the night before and OMG I hope my mum doesn’t see the picture of me on Facebook sprawled out naked with two bananas in each ear and a cigarette in each nostril (believe me youth of today, we mothers have been there, done it and got the t-shirt – it’s not such a big deal) or 2) how their bowel movements are either squigdy or downright loose (neither of which I find particularly appealing at 8am and 3) where they’ve been, where they’re going and each party proclaiming to either have climbed Everest naked or swum the Pacific Ocean and fought off at least 1500 sharks and not a bite in sight. I will secretly miss all that – Goodbye hostel 🙂
Flight from Delhi to Mumbai once again with Air India and Dani and I sandwiched on a 3 seater with 4 people. I love that……moving swiftly onwards….
Apart from the spelling, of hostel and hotel I am not noticing a great deal of difference in the two. I must admit I haven’t seen any rodent bait traps outside each door in our new residence and we do have a kettle inside the room, which relieves me of my tea making duties throughout the night in the corridor as I struggled with hostel insomnia.

As yet we have only seen the night markets in Mumbai where my claim “I’m definitely not buying anything today” resulted in a rather nice compass (unfortunately instill needed google maps to get back to the hotel) and a top in size 18 where the man told me it would fit me perfectly- slightly offensive but only 4 euros – so took that with a pinch of salt☺️
However the noise remains the same and once again I find myself wondering how I shall fill the hours till dawn without succumbing to becoming a discontented complaining old bat – ok kettle here I come…….👵🏻

Why did I think it would be a good idea to take my laundry to the hostel laundry service at 5am this morning? He did say before 10am but obviously wasn’t expecting counting women’s underwear at such an unearthly hour. As I waited for him to finish a discussion with his colleague about whether to count my fleece as an overcoat or a jacket, when in actual fact it’s more of a jumper, I started to get a little nervous about the time. He insisted on writing each piece on a list and then wrote each piece again out on another list – 22 pieces in all – he read the names of the articles out loud and I was pleased there were no other guests around – brrrrrraaaasssss and panties can be slightly embarrassing- there was just no hurrying or interrupting him, he was taking his job very seriously.

On completion we sprang into a taxi to New Delhi train station. It was still dark but so incredibly busy. We found our train and seats and in the process moved some French people already nestled down in our reserved spaces 😉 The train was incredible – a high speedyish express called Shatabdi. Totally unprepared for the punctual start and the ensuing 4 course breakfast watching the sun rise out of the left side and various animals and people walking along the tracks in a calm chaos on the right and listening to some magical mystical Indian music, almost expecting snakes to wind their way out of wicker baskets. A truly exceptional train experience.
We had arranged to meet a tour guide in Agra and I bumped into someone who asked if I was mrs patreeshah, who I obviously am. Strange how you just automatically meet up with the right people – almost magnetic.
First stop the Taj Mahal. I couldn’t wait to see that, has been on my bucket list ever since Lady Di did her iconic sad pose. Of course I wanted to recreate this and asked the unofficial official photographer if he could make me look like Lady Di – he assured me he could and he was hired. He said one photo would cost 100 rupees which is about 1 euro 50 cents. What he failed to tell us was that he took a minimum of 40 photos and on completion of our photo shoot asked for 4000 rupees and said he would throw in a CD gratis!!! I’m not a savvy in the know traveller as yet – I’m working on it, but also got persuaded to buy a carpet as well today – tomorrow I shall be more careful 🙂

The day ended with another unspicy meal in Agra – in order to get something non spicy, you have to look blonde like me and rub your belly and pull up your nose in order to convey a distaste for spicy food. I think this is one thing I do quite well 🙂

Back in our hostel in Delhi, the music pounds out from the disco (courtyard) below and I once again find myself believing I am too old for hostels……I would however rather not sleep all night, than ask them to turn the music down 😉