Gecko Song

As I promised myself at the start of this holiday, today I went for an Ayuredic massage. This is a traditional form of massage that involves getting slicked up with so much herbal oil you could fit though a key hole and having hands all over you.

It’s a bit different from the sorts of things you get in Aussie…actually scratch that…it’s totally different.

Firstly I was completely in the nud, except for a pair of paper pants then I had to sit on a little stool in front of some burning incense. The lady doing the do, started by pouring some hot oil into my hair and giving me a head massage, it was very relaxing. After the head, the shoulders and upper back got done and then I moved to the bed where I laid on my front. More warm oil, that smelled like molasses, was applied and rubbed in. Then I had to turn over. I was naked and had oil poured all over me. Then hands started rubbing. To say it was odd, strange and unusual would be an understatement.

Margaret Thatcher on a cold day popped into my head and made me cough, not a good thing when you’re flat on your back. So I thought about poetry – that cleared my mind!

After all the hot oily bit was done with I was covered in hot exfoliant mud then told to shower. It was over. It was a very quick hour, but an hour it was.

On to the facial. Here I had my face covered in what smelt and felt like cucumber yoghurt, then corn chips, the something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on the smell of…until it came to me and I wish it hadn’t. It smelt mildly like warm uncooked chicken that had just about turned for the worst. But, I’m guessing it must have really good cleansing properties ‘cause she used a lot of it. Then came more cucumber yogurt with cucumber eye patches. She left me like that for a while with nothing to do but think so I came up with this;

4 Poems about the stages of an Ayuvedic Facial

Cucumber yoghurt
smoothed with care on my face
curry must feel this

Corn starch packing slugs
the second exfoliate
rough and ready cleanse

The third eludes
day old warm chicken smell found
good for skin must be

Hardened egg yolk last
left in silence to compose
cucumber on eyes

It was great. Not even the screaming kids could destroy my tranquility for at least two hours after. They gave it a damn good try by swimming up and down and yelling right outside the hotel room. But I even managed to finish reading my extremely boring and storyless Uni text while ignoring them, I was that serene. It doesn’t happen often, I can tell yah! And my skin feels al silky soft.

Right now I have a gecko helping me write by singing at me from the wall above the desk. Do I really have to come home?

Horny Horny

After half a days travel we arrived at Kumarakom Lake Resort on Kerala, almost directly opposite Chennai on the pointy bit at the bottom of India. We had taken a taxi from the hotel to the airport, a plane (were I made a mistake and ate the lunch provided) from Channai to Kochi (Cochin to some) and then a luxury car (provided to the resort) from the airport to the resort.

I saw an elephant, but wasn’t quick enough with the camera.

Kumarakom and Chennai couldn’t be more different if they tried. In Chennai there is little green and vehicles everywhere. On the back of the trucks and auto-rickshaws Sound Horn is written. Hardly any cars have mirrors. They have either been removed on purpose or by accident. So everyone is constantly honking horns to let everyone else know they are there. And boy, do they need to let other know. The horn sounds come many and varied; honk honk, toot toot, blurp, beep beep, oh-e oh-e, tweet tweet, burp burp…I can’t spell the others.

In Kumarakom there is only green. Ohh and the lake. You can hear crickets, birds, the laughter of children (read screaming in the pool) and the constant (but pleasant) drumming of what turns out to be boat builders next door. From our room you can see Cormorants fishing next to the fishermen in their long punt boats and the rain as it comes across the lake. We are here in Monsoon season. It’s 25degrees with 90% humidity and perfect.

Dinner on the first night here was fish in local spices and coconut cream for me and Hubby had Prawn Masala. He was most pleased, it was served in a coconut!

At 2am the mistake on the plane came back to haunt me and meant I spent all of Tuesday very close to the room, sleeping and drinking Gastrolyte.

Farty Party, Table for Two

There is something about having curry for breakfast. Idly (rice pattie) and Samba (spicy veg soup) with coriander paste is becoming somewhat a favourite with me. I’m not sure if the rest of the planet will thank me for the methane emissions though.

By Sunday night the wedding was well and truly over. The families had left and it was just us (from the wedding party) left in the hotel. What to do?

We chilled in the Breeze hotel lobby café while waiting for the restaurant to open. We were soon joined by a couple from Portsmouth and for a horrible second or two we thought we weren’t going to be able to shake them. However, we did, purely by agreeing with them when they asked if the Kane and Able Café was the only place to eat in the hotel.

So at 7.45pm we pottered our separate way for dinner. We went to the Poonamallee Restauant and they, to Kane and Able.

We walked through the door and into Butlins, Minehead circa 1972. Ban-maire along one wall, dimmed lights and families scattered all over the shop. We asked if they were doing a-la-carte. Thank goodness they were, but just for us ‘cause we asked.

We asked for the wine list, we thought a nice bottle of something would help us relax a bit and we were brought the entire wine list. It consisted of a bottle of red or a bottle of white. We went for red, after all it’s very hard to stuff up Cab Sav.

After we had ordered from the International menu, Hubby ordered Crispy Lamb for the Oriaental Feast section, I ordered Seer Fish grilled with garlic and butter. I didn’t fancy curry again and neither did Hubby.

While we waited for our dinner to arrive we had a visit from the magic man. He made a fake bird appear from a coin, he made a king of spades disappear and turn into a three of spades, he made a little straw man stand up on his palm as he straightened out his hand and made the cloth disappear and reappear. For his final trick he made Rs5 of disappear from Hubbys wallet. After he’d left Hubby said ‘I fu*king hate cun…jurors’.

Dinner arrived and at last Hubby got what he’d been expecting from the wedding food. Pete had warned us that the food might be a bit spicy, only it hadn’t been. Now that Hubby was after something other than curry, it turned out his Crispy Lamb was the spiciest thing he’d had all week. He broke out in a sweat it was so spicy. Meanwhile my grilled fish was perfect.

As dinner arrived the musical entertainment started. One man and his Casio keyboard! He started with a rendition of Congratulations by Sir Cliff Richard then launched into a couple of Indian tunes followed by Que Sera-Sera.
This all got us to reminiscing about the worst hotel we had ever stayed at, the most disappointing restaurant and the most overrated tourist locations.
Hotel – We came to the conclusion it was the B&B in Weymouth, New Year 1997.
Restaurant – Had to be the Chinese in Llandudno were everything came out on plates with knives and forks.
Tourist Location – Warner Brothers Movie World. It’s only got four rides and everything else is a shop. We did of course exclude the Dog on a Tucker Box in NSW and the Aboriginal Canoe Tree in Goolwa SA, ‘cause we didn’t have to pay to see them.

What does the 0 stand for?

The wedding ceremony was taking place at 0430 on Sunday morning. One of the holy men had decreed that was the best time for Pete and Sara to get married.

Personally I have a theory…and it involves fitting in as many ceremonies in one day so he can afford to pay his mobile bill.

I’m going to try and describe what happened now, based on the snippets that relatives told me in broken English and from what I gathered by watching.

The groom was waiting for the bride and shortly after she arrived looking radiant in green and gold he was loaded up with an umbrella (shelter), and fan (?), a cane (support) and flower garlands. He then had to leave the room telling the father he no longer wanted to marry his daughter and the family of the bride have to chase after him and beg him to come back. This is all done the accompaniment of a drum band.

When he comes back in the bride and groom have to exchange flower garlands (this is the equivalent of exchanging rings) then sit in a swing set surrounded by family (mostly hers). Here they are blessed by holy men and have their feet washed with honey milk by various members of both families. Then they have 30 rice balls (15 coloured with turmeric and 15 coloured with the red powder used for the red bindi) moved around their heads three time both clock wise and anti-clockwise to ward off the evil eye. After this is done they move to the stage area again for more blessings.

The blessings are done in front of fire, as the fire is God, therefore any promises made before fire cannot be broken. The whole ceremony was beautiful and towards the end, once again, both fathers had to invite us to eat breakfast ‘cause we didn’t want to miss anything.

After breakfast we were cleared for a few hours, so we returned to the room and crashed! ‘Cause I was wearing a sari I propped a pillow behind my back and sleep in a chair, Hubby took advantage of the lovely hard bed. It was 0730 and we slept til 9. Then returned downstairs as instructed. Nothing was happening til lunch, and it was to be casual. So back upstairs, sari off and bed til lunch.

At lunch, once again curry on a bed of banana leaf, the waiters didn’t bother givning us a spoon and fork. We had been accepted.

The Pre-Wedding Day

Pete and Sara are having two days of wedding. On the afternoon before the wedding (in this case 6am tomorrow) there is an informal reception and a formal reception. During the informal reception, which was two hours long, the bride and groom are officially engaged and are given flower garlands by holy men to prove this. Yes, this takes two hours! On the plus side I got to wear a lovely blue and green sari and bling to match. Sara looked radiant in orange and red with jasmine in her hair and gold around her neck.

There was food and a change of clothes before the formal reception and this involved both fathers and an uncle inviting us to eat. The vegetarian curry was served on a banana leaf and was yummy. We even did as the locals do and ate with our fingers (right hand only, the left is considered dirty), thank Ganesh for poppadums and chapatti. Hubby got told off by the waiter when he tried to eat the lime pickle and of course they felt sorry for us and brought spoon and forks. We struggled, but prevailed in the end.

In the evening there was the official reception. Four hours of Pete and Sara sitting in big chairs wearing red and gold sari for her, biscuit suit with cream shirt and tie for him. When someone came onto the stage to give them a gift they would jump up and have their picture taken. This happened for FOUR HOURS! Maybe this was why Pete was late?

There was music provided by a pair of saxaphone playing, sari wearing ladies who were backed up by drums. They played all the tunes you know, if you live in India, if you don’t they all sound the same after the first three, so you’d better like them. We did.

We had our picture taken with the bride and groom. Twice.

We also smuggled a quick chat at the same time and found out that they were both bored and just wanted it all over with. With all the hassle of the last few weeks, weddingoveritis had well and truly set in, with only one more day to go.

The First Three Days - In reverse order

Friday – Rubbish, Rubble, Refuse and Bollywood Dancing

In a bid to mop up the errors of last night we spent the best part of Friday morning getting the bits we missed out last night ‘cause he was running late (‘cause his mum was being a right royal cow, quite apt seeing as we’re in India). We hired a taxi, here you arrange by the hour and agree price up front. Once again we had the White Austin Ambassadour, but the drivers English wasn’t any better. He had trouble finding the bling store, but between the three of us it was OK. Then he took us to Pondy Markets so I could buy blouses for under my sari’s. As they were pre-made, I could only get cotton ones and the silk ones will be made while I’m over the other side in Kochi.

After a bit of shopping we made a stop at a tourist spot. The Valluvar Kottam is a 101foot (31 metre) tall temple chariot. It’s moohoosive! It was in its own grounds proudly created and maintained by India Bank, but Hubby and I could see very evidence of maintenance. The grass was over grown, there was litter all over the place and walls were falling over. The Chariot itself was spotless, but that may have been because of its religious significance. To me it seems that the only things looked after are temples, little temple things by the side of the road (shrines) and overseas big brand name shops. It’s sad really, but the people of Chennai seem to have take Gandhi literally when he said ‘Pride leads to destruction’, unfortunately, if they don’t start having some pride, the town will fall down around their ears…I think it’s already started.

Lots of pictures were taken at the Chariot, and I couldn’t resist being a bit silly and pretending to run over by the wheels. On the way out of the gardens, we spotted a fruit seller and brought a Mango. Usually they sell slices, but having been warned about not knowing how clean the knife is, how long its been cut etc, we just brought a whole one. The lady looked most pleased when I handed over Rs10 without blinking. I’m fairly sure it had the stoopid white tourist tax in there somewhere but ten rupees is only about 30c it’s a bargain!

Back at the hotel we had a shower (temp today 38degrees with over 80% humidity) then dressed in some of our new local clothing. I’m sorry, but Hubby just looked daft in a pair of cotton pants and a kaftan (Pete, I know this isn’t right, but I can’t remember everything). On the other hand, my arse looked huge in my amazing expanding drawstring pants and didn’t really look much better no matter how much bling I put on.

The Mehendi party was being held across town near Sara's house and when we arrived (2 hours later thanks to PST, Pete Standard Time) everything was in full swing. The guava juice was following like…guava juice, but the dancing was going off and the henna girls were working like machines in the corner. I suppose applying henna is a bit like icing a cake and with plenty of skill and heaps of practice you get quick. But these girls would do a hand in less than five minutes. It’s amazing to watch, but try standing from a sitting position without bending your wrists or smudging the freshly done work of art.

I danced, not a lot, but I got a little in between having my hands done. Then it was time for dinner. Guess what we had…yeap, curry! It’s was lovely and everyone was kind enough not to expect us to eat with our hands like the locals. A spoon and fork was provided. They had even cooked mild dishes, afraid we wouldn’t be able to handle the true local fare. Hubby was saying it wasn’t hot enough but my lips had that nice curry tingle by the end.

First Night - Sari Shopping

We met up with Peteat about five and he took us to Pondy Bazaar. Both Hubby and I had to buy our outfits for the weekend and we got a chance to take a walk in the shopping area. Our first stop was Jhillmill, a shop on four floors for women only. It’s a bling store! I was greeted by pete’s Mother-in-Law who insisted on showing me around. Consequently, I didn’t have that much time to browse and therefore didn’t get what I would have really liked. But I did get stuff I liked, so it’s all good.

After buying bling, we walked to the sari shop. On the way we stopped at a jasmine seller and brought a string. All day I have been seeing ladies with these beautiful creamy white flowers in their hair. Now I had some. Only I have short hair and no where to pin it, so I’m wearing it like a scarf and really look like a tourist. Ohh hang –on…I could look more like a tourist, Hubby and I are the only western faces I’ve seen all day!

Before we came here, pete was warning us about all the things that would be overwhelming. Traffic, heat, pick pockets, amount of people etc…what he didn’t warn us about and by far the most overwhelming thing so far is the shop assistants. In a shop were everything is price it’s slightly different from a street stall (in so much as no hard selling) but as soon as you pay special attention to one item they grab it from you and put it to one side for review later. In the jewellery shop this meant I ended up leaving with a bangle I have no hope of getting over my massive white knuckles, which is a shame, ‘cause it’s very pretty.


The Sari shop was called RmKV. I saw it a few weeks ago on telly because they have the longest wedding sari in the world, 250metres or something. I remembered the shop from seeing the marble stair cases and walls and walls of neatly folded saris. I was in colour heaven. I desperately wanted to take pictures, but again the not wanting to like a tourist thing got the better of me. I wanted to get close to the silks and breathe them in. I wanted to get close pictures of the swatches of colours, but most of all I wanted the 50,000 colour sari that cost Rs44,000. I figured I just wouldn’t get enough wear out of it. Instead I picked three, a turquoise and mint green, an orange and red and a gold and forest green. I also had to get a salwar kameez (trousers and matching long top) for the Mehendi (henna/hen party) on Friday. I ended up in burgundy raw silk with beading and braid work for a snip at A$75.

Pete was a great help and as usual had impeccable taste. We rolled in late and didn’t waste time falling asleep.

Morning One – Damp Patches

Our Five Star hotel in the heart of Chennai offered us the accommodation that the Road house in Karuah would have rivalled. I know I sound ungrateful, but it’s all so run down. There are huge damp patches on the walls and the whole smells like my grandma pad. The Lobby has that whole 80’s decadence thing going for it, then you step into the lift and it’s like being on the set of Mission Impossible where behind the doors it’s really a warehouse.

We woke up after a fairly restless night sleep on our bed of nails and had a shower without getting any water in our mouths. We cleaned our teeth with bottled water and locked absolutely anything worth over $5 in the safe before leaving for our morning of being driven around. The taxi we were in was a 1950 Austin Ambassador, from the outside it was immaculate, on the inside, its age was beginning show.

We started at the Kapaleswarar Temple, a magnificent structure dating back over 1300 years with over 900 sculptures in all colours of the rainbow. We had to walk from the taxi with bare feet and were welcomed by one of the temple ‘pujari’ (the equivalent of a verger, I think). He gave us a whistle-wind, leaving little time for me to take photos, but I did get a few.

Left - Right : Ganesh _ the elephant god – always carried by mighty mouse, Lakshmi _ goddess of wealth – she just stands there and looks pretty, Brahma _ the creator – well, he just creates and Saraswathi _ goddess of learning – she travels on a lion

The Wishing Tree - where people make wishes!

On to a bit of shopping. We started in a Kashmir carpet place. We were given cardamom tea and shown many yummy hand knotted carpets in a multitude of colours and designs. I had my eye on a red/orange diamond design made of cashmere but at US$1900 it was a little out of my holiday spending budget. I settled on a cashmere pashmina from the Spenser Plaza instead. The price sounded a lot in rupees, but when converted into A$ it was hard to resist for only 50bucks.

Food wise we’re okay. I managed to have curry for breakfast, while Hubby stuck to bread and jam. For lunch we went all out and went to Pizza Hut. Bit odd I know, go all that way and have pizza, but…have you ever had a Malai Seekh Kebab pizza? I have now ;-)

Off to buy Sari’s later…


The First 7 Hours of my Holiday

3hrs and 55 minutes into the flight and I’m bored. And I’ve already slept for 90 minets. This is why I hate flying. I know, I know I could watch the movies, or listen to the music provided, but somehow when on a plane I just can’t get into them. I’ve taken some nice photos out of the window (they don’t call it the Red Centre for no reason) and had a wicked dream. I know that the retelling of dreams can be boring, but …

On a plane, when terrorists jump out of their seats in various parts of the plane with guns (how did they get them on board, they took my hairgel!) so I sit there for a while much girlie screaming and gun waving goes on. After everything has settled down I jump from my seat, and charge the rough looking sort closest to me while his back is turned. Hubby is still in his seat shouting for me to stop and behave. I knock the guy down and use the butt of his gun to break his nose. Crouched low I move forward into the galley and prepare to take on the next. This one sees me coming and raises his gun. I kick it from his hands just before he pulls the trigger, then smashed the heel of my hand into his nose, cracking his nose and snapping his head back. He recovers, but I strike him in the shin with the side of my foot, taking him down. The bloke sat in the seat behind the bad guy grabs him by the throat and flashes an air marshal badge at me. ‘Ma’am you really should do as they say, you know?’
‘stuff that, the bastards at the airport thought it was me with my amazing exploding hairgel, I going to prove them wrong.’
As I make my way forward I can’t see any more bad guys, but I know they’re there, at least two more. In the next galley I change sides of the plane and move forward slowly. There is a young family sat in the seats, cowering and I realise that they are looking at the bad guy. He’s hiding behind the wall, waiting for me to make a mistake. I stop in the galley and look around, I find the coffee pot. Slowly I move forward and swing the coffee pot around the corner in front of me. He screams and jumps out at me. He has me held by the wrists, all I can think of is to bring my knee up and flatten the family jewels. He releases my right hand, I reach behind me a pick up one of the child’s colouring pencils and bring it down into his eye socket. He screams and falls backwards, I jumped onto him and plunged the pencil into his heart….

At that point Hubby woke me up saying we were over the Olga and I realized that I watch far to much Buffy, Alias and Blade!

But to be honest, I like that I can kick arse in my dreams.