India/Sri Lanka trip

November 2016
OK... so if you’ve read my other diaries, this’ll be short and sweet. (says me
sitting here in Vijay and Baezinha’s house).

We arrived into Mumbai last night. It was dark (no kidding Einstein). The
smell was not bad... perhaps in the last few years they’ve sprinkled air
freshener and stopped pooping on the footpaths...whatever, - India keep it
up.

The airport is vastly improved, the new terminal lacks the sandbagged
machine guns of my very first visit. The toilets also do not have the little man
selling toilet paper for $US1. Times have changed. The economist within me
would suggest the trickledown effect is working well here, - as the national
economy gets stronger, the very poorest get richer, - perhaps not evenly with
the richest, but there is some improvement to all. In fact driving through
Mumbai on the way to Pune, I only saw 1 family sleeping on the streets.
Wow... what a change from the first few trips.

Bizenne’s house is in a gated community. I’m sharing a room with Chris Dale.
In fact I’m sharing a bed with Chris Dale. Not my ideal, - but hey... what can
ya do. I was too tired to find an alternative solution.

The Singapore airlines flight from Wellington to Canberra and then to

Singapore were not really that flash. The plane was old and the technology
was dated. Movie selection was poor and the food was average. Not the
usual high Singapore airline standard.... first world problems.

The flight out of Singapore to Mumbai was far superior. It was on an A380
(much to Adam’s delight). The technology was new, the movie selection
bigger (though I decided to watch a Norwegian movie that involved a lot of
skiing through lush powder snow, - seemed appropriate).

Singapore had been Singapore... Hot and humid,

we travelled in the MRT into the Marina Bay
precinct and then wandered for a while until
everyone was close to exhaustion. We found the
food market area by the river that Adam wanted to
get to, and although we arrived before they
opened, they let us order drinks and our food. In
fact, we ordered a truck
load of food including a
whole duck. Everything
was demolished quickly.
Nice setting, but I was in
the sun and conscious of
NOT wanting to fry on my
first day away.
We ended up at the Singapore Gardens. The ODBC walkway was pretty cool,
great views of the city and the crazy boat thing on 3 skyscrapers. Top marks
for originality to the architect that dreamt that up.

Anita (surprisingly) was struggling with the heat, her legs get puffy or
something, so we made our way back to the airport via the MRT and got
settled back into transit hotel that Singapore Airlines graciously gave us.

For dinner, I ended up at the “Singapore Food Street” within the airport
complex that provided some reasonably genuine street
food.

But anyway, back to India.

We headed out to find an ATM. The first one was not

usable for us, the second took my card and let me do
everything up to a point, but just not give me cash. Adam
went back to Vijay’s house to find out where another ATM
would be while us whiteys waited by the road side. I
found a firework seller and purchase some crackers with
my remaining 40 rupees from my last visit. They had “no
change”. They had no matches/lighter, so I couldn’t
indulge in my pyromaniac fantasy just yet.

We eventually found the ATM and

filled our wallets with cash,
unfortunately 500 rupee notes which
local street vendors will probably not
be able to accept. We fill up with new
water bottles (and a cigarette lighter)
and head back to the house.
We sit around for ages discussing when we
should go out. I get bored of the discussion so
retire to my bedroom for a siesta. I am awoken
at 6pm. We head out by rickshaw to the
Seasons mall. It is the type of mall that would
sit well in Singapore or any other major city, and
it’s all decked out with Diwali decorations. The
outside of the mall looks like some type of
magical neon kingdom with light bulbs and kids
train rides assaulting the senses. Talk about
overkill.

The girls are after Punjabis

so we agree to split and
meet back in an hour for
dinner. I walk the length
and breadth of the 4 floors
but save myself from the
food court area as I do not
want to ruin my appetite. I
do find the equivalent of Kmart and break a 500 rupee
note by buying a 20 rupee bottle of water. I don’t
think the cashier dude was particularly impressed.

We meet up again and have another general discussion

about dinner. I think Bennizine thinks we’re after a
western type restaurant, whereas Adam and I are
strong advocates for Indian. After a
couple of false starts we end up at a
Vegetarian restaurant, where we have
an authentic Thali which comprises lots
of dipping things and bread things and
rice and dahl and just lots of different
tastes and flavours. I make a pig of
myself as usual.

We wander back through the mall and

I pay 100 rupees for a simulated
cricket game. I’m not as good as I
think I am, although I draw quite a crowd.

We travel back via rickshaw to Vijay’s house where we finally get to let off the
5 crackers I purchased earlier in the morning. Christian and Nathan (Vijay’s
kids) let most of them off. They are clearly produced to give maximum
“boom”. I seriously doubt the locals would know the difference between an
ISIS invasion and a couple of these bad boys.
It gets Adam in the mood, so he asks
Vijay to go and get some sky rockets
which we let off in the residential
courtyard. At 10:30pm you’d think
there’d be screams of anger showering
down upon us from the bedrooms
above, - but it all seems somehow
perfectly normal to be letting of 50
missiles of explosive fun into the night
sky whilst the community “sleeps”.
Noise control is not a concept here.

The highlight was when Nathan (Vijay’s

8 year old son) who had been sitting on
top of a nearby slide yelled “what the
hell am I doing here” as he scrambled
down the slide to get away from the
fireworks. We eventually call it a night
and I have a restless night with my
knee causing me some angst. (I
twisted it in an awkward angle 2
½ weeks ago and despite physio
it’s still causing some grief when I
move in my sleep).

The next day (Wednesday I think?).

Adam’s meeting up with some people. The girls are shopping and me and
Chris are gonna hit the town, maybe check out a fort, check out the Luxmi
Road area etc... Should be fun.
So we caught a rickshaw to the
fort. I’d been there on my very
first trip to India (15 years
ago), and I remember being
underwhelmed then and for
200 rupees (for international
visitors as compared to the 15
rupees locals were charged) I
was reasonably under whelmed
this time too. Much of the
signage that explained stuff
was missing, so Chris and I had to guess what was what. We figured the
toilets were in one corner and the kitchen in the diagonally opposite corner, -
but it could of been the other way around, - who knows? When we were up
on the walls, Chris noticed a nearby residential complex called “Shitole
Status”. It was hard to contain the laughter. For the rest of the day we saw
other complexes that could have had a similar status.

While at the fort I was approached for a photo by

a trendy young guy, I dutifully obliged. Then we
were joined by 2 other trendy looking dudes, the
photo taker was one of their wives... I felt like
royalty. Chris suggested that they may have
thought I was a Beatle given I was wearing a
Beatle t-shirt. I suggested they had seen me at
the mall the previous night playing cricket and
thought I was a big IPL star?

I took a photo of 3 men wearing the crisp white

Hindu uniforms made famous by President Nehru.
One made sure I knew he was “very old”, he was
75.
After walking right around the fort and along the walls, we headed off in the
general direction of Luxmi Road (old city market area) and a museum that
Adam had told us about. Along the way, I think I was propositioned by a
man/girl thing (Adam later told me it was
probably a eunuch wanting to bless me), and
there was a girl on the opposite side of the
road waving at me. Adam had earlier told me
that Luxmi Road was the red light area, I
shivered remembering the walk through a red
light alley all those years earlier.
It was getting hot... real hot and we’d
walked quite a way... around midday
shops were shutting up so we found a
bar/restaurant. We got shown upstairs
where we watched some sports TV (India
v NZ cricket, some kind of weird World
Cup of Kabaddi, - I must look up that sport
it looks kinda cool, - only to be interrupted
when someone changed it to a Pakistan v
West Indies cricket match). I ordered
Chicken stir fry and Chris ordered an omelette. We both had a couple of Tom
Thumbs. The best thing though was the fan at head height directly pointing
at our table and the fact we could sit and re-gather our energy.

Once we felt comfortable to venture outside

again, armed with directions from the waiter
(who we’d given a good tip too) we headed
out in search of the Raja Dinkar Kelkar
Museum. We turned left at the temple as he
mentioned, and kept our eyes peeled for
anything that looked like a museum.
Nothing... We walked the length of the road.
Nothing.... We asked another shopkeeper,
who told us to walk down another road
and turn left again (effectively completing
the last 2 sides of a very large square).
The Museum must’ve been very close to
the restaurant that we started at!

The entrance price for foreigners was 200

rupees, again over 10 times the price for
locals. There was an extra 200 rupees for
taking my camera which I refused to pay
and promised not to take photos. He waved me through (and I was a man of
my word and didn’t take any photos.). The museum was full of statues and
archaeological delights. Certainly the best museum I’ve been to in the
developing world that was not funded by western money. It covered 4 floors
and included a comb collection, a noodle-making collection, a musical
instrument section, an erotic nut cracker section to name but a few.

Once we’d walked around it, we hit the outside heat once more and decided
to shoot back to home-base. The rickshaw ride went well, and because I am
a big-tipper, I paid the driver a 10 rupee bonus (20 cents).

Adam was the only one home, the girls were still shopping. Adam and I went
swimming in the compound’s pool. It was awesome.

Just after 5pm Pastor Prem and Sanjeeta turned up for a catch-up with Adam
and Anita. I heard them discuss family stuff, and it wasn’t good, so I thought
the best approach was to make myself scarce. I suggested to the others that
we go get an ice cream from one of the shops outside the front gate.

We found Baskin Robbins which is an American ice cream chain. They had
about 30 odd different flavours, though I eventually settled on chocolate. It
was great, though kinda weird having American ice cream in the middle of an
Indian city, but so very, very great.

We arrived back just as the counselling session was winding up. Apparently
the issues are quite serious with some of their kid’s marriages.

Dinner time! We made our way by foot to a nearby Chinese restaurant. The
waiter ordered some food, we ate, I probably over ate, and then we left.

Thursday

Vijay made us Dosas for breakfast, a kind of omelette with rice and cheese.
Adam is again spending time with Prem, and so the 5 of us, Karen Armstrong,
Stephanie Phillips, Melissa Kingi, Chris Dale and I decide to go on another
adventure, this time to the Aga Kahn Palace, Pravati Hill and the Snake park
found at the Pune zoo.

Being 5, we split into 2 different rickshaws, - the palace was on the other side
of the city so it seemed to take a good 20-30 minutes. Traffic is the usual
diabolical chaos, but I do find myself thinking, as we zoom in and out of
traffic, how things have changed. There is far less rubbish on the roads these
days, - in fact, I am very impressed to have counted 5 monster one-man
vacuum cleaner type units to this point in the trip, being walked through the
streets picking up litter/rubbish. I have also observed far less back-breaking,
soul-destroying manual labour from the comfort of my rickshaw than I
remember seeing in the past.

India really is changing, however the

same cannot be said of the displays at
the Aga Kahn palace. The unprotected
photos are the same as photos from 5
years ago, just degraded a whole lot
more. Maintenance on the palace is
not keeping up with the natural decay
of the building. I am reminded again of
the demi-god status that Mr Gandhi
enjoys in India. We check out the
sadhimi (?) that contains some of the
ashes of the big dude himself. We also
see Mr Gandhi’s personal skate park and
the area he probably used to shoot some
hoops.
We have a bit of a debate about what to do next. After a rickshaw driver told
us the snake park was on the other side of the city, we decide to find the
“Barbeque nation” restaurant that Adam said was just a short walk from the
front gate of the palace.

Walking on the side of a hot dusty road even for 2 minutes seems like a very
long time, and we were beginning to doubt Adam’s memory, when I spot the
sign down a side alley way.

It was good timing because they were just opening up. In fact, as we walked
in, the staff were just completing their team huddle, which they ended with
some type of team-bonding clapping ritual, - nice.

The manager assigned to our table was talking his “English” variant very
quickly, so were weren’t entirely sure what we were doing, but he said the
appetisers would come and be served at our table, and then we could serve
ourselves at the buffet. We were also told we could order a free “fizz”, so I
ordered a spicy Masala cola (which was a mistake -puke).

Bits of our table were removed to reveal a hole into which a container of
embers was place across the top of which some kebabs were placed. We
were also served some very nice appetisers directly onto our plate, including
chicken drumsticks, BBQ’d corn, and fried chicken. The kebabs included
chicken, shrimps and fish, which to my surprise was my favourite!

Chris, having gone with a non-veg option had a variety of veges to devour his
way through.

The “appetisers” just kept coming, until we said no. By that stage we were
full, and very, very, very content. Out of curiosity more than any desire for
more food, we all had a look around the corner at the buffet, and OMG, the
food was to die for around the corner too! So I helped myself to rice and a
few different curries etc... Then there was the dessert selection as well.
Barbeque Nation has just become my most favourite restaurant chain in the
whole world!
At the end of our feasting, we were given a tablet to complete a survey. We
rated everything “excellent” or gave maximum points for everything except
the drinks... I don’t think I was the only one who had an average experience
with their drink selection.

Karen at this point decided to call it a day and return to homebase, the other
4 of us decided to continue on to Pravati Hill where we would try to walk off
some of our lunch.... so we decided to go to Pravati Hill via homebase given
that according to Melissa’s Google maps (she has a Vodaphone roaming deal)
it was on the way. Again 2 rickshaws, but I assigned Karen (having more
rickshaw experience than the others) to the other rickshaw because I was
less confident of a rickshaw driver getting us to “One Norrie” road (my
phonetic spelling) on the other side of town. These things sometimes require
a cool head and I sensed Chris was not yet fully able to trust the rickshaw
process... you will always get there in the end.

Sure enough, the rickshaw I was in got to home base 10-15 minutes before
the other one, and I was getting quite worried. Apparently it was only
Melissa’s Google maps that saved the day.

So now we were down to 4, which is still 2 rickshaws.

Pravati Hill has 103 steps according to Wikipedia, but only 85-ish according to
Stephanie. There is a Hindu temple on top and a reasonable number of locals
visiting either for the 360 degree view of the city, the exercise, or to visit the
temple. But for the duration of our time at the top, - they were also
swarming around us, - particularly me, - my rockstar personality, or perhaps
my batman t-shirt, got me into a few different conversations and at least 5-6
different photos. You could tell that many people were keen to try out their
English skills, including a young 12–ish girl who was there with her Mother
and her “granny”. The daughter, clearly at the prompting of her granny,
offered us some of her home-baked dry snack thing. I couldn’t remember
what it was, but I’d definitely seen it before and thought the risk of food
poisoning was very low, so we all partook.
Once we were back down from the hill, Chris decided to head back to home
base. Melissa was still keen to go to the snake park and Stephanie was
neutral, so the 3 of us decided to continue.

There seems to be some kind of fairground thing happening outside the zoo
entrance way, however we navigate ourselves to the ticket queue, pay our
100 rupees as foreigners ($NZ2) and make our way to the “In” gate.

The dude there forces me to go back and buy a 50 rupee ticket for my
camera. I hate that kind of thing, - everyone else has cameras on their
iphones/Samsungs! (mutter, mutter).

There is a substantial throng of people in the

zoo, particularly around the snake area. On
the whole, the snake park was average, most
of the interest for me was around watching
the people, many of whom were watching us.
There was however one particularly large
Kinga Cobra wrapped into an
enormous circle in the corner.
That was one scary beast of
a snake.

We spent about 30 minutes

in the zoo before deciding to
head back to home base.

Melissa, Stephanie and I

ticked every box we started
the day with, - a good effort!
The next day, - I shall call it Friday,
though I’m not really that confident
that it is Friday, all the days are
merging into being ‘just another day’ – started
weirdly. I awoke to endless swishing and swashing
noises coming from the bathroom. It went on and
on and on. I had no idea what Chris was doing.
Whatever it was, was taking ages and I needed to
take a pitstop.

Finally Chris emerged, the drain had been blocked,

and there had been water everywhere. He had tried
to mop it up and empty it into the wash basin,
however the basin emptied into the same drain as
the shower and it took him some time to realise.
Eventually he had decided to empty his mop directly
into the toilet which wasn’t leaking (thankfully).

The rest of the morning developed slowly. Adam

wanted to get his eyes checked and new glasses
ordered, it’s cheaper over here. The optometrist
opened around 11am and he needed Anita to
translate. Anita had promised to take the girls shopping on MG road and
having nothing better to do, I thought I’d tag along. Chris stayed at home
base, I think he had some reading/emails/stuff to do.
So we didn’t head out until midday-ish. We (surprisingly?) ended up at the
bangle department where there was much discussion and debate and time
ticked ever so slowly. It was the same bangle department I’d been at before
many years ago where, as I recall, the space-time continuum also seemed to
drag. Not much I can do, but wait for the time distortion to correct itself and
to move on.
We walked through the
vegetable department, Anita
disappeared into the meat
department, I would’ve gone
with her, but she disappeared
before I knew which way she
went. While she was gone,
Karen, Pamela and Melissa were
engaged in serious Masala spice
buying activities. The stsll-owner
must have thought it was
Christmas. These were
packaged boxes of spices that
should get through customs.
Once we purchased all of his
stock, we started purchasing
from the stall holder next door,
yet paid the man in the original
stall. I added to the malaise by
purchasing some as well. I don’t
really know how/what they do,
but I just enjoyed being part of
the buying frenzy. I know Helen
will be able to prepare awesome
Indian meals with them... I look
forward to it.

So one couldn’t help but notice during the spice buying frenzy that we were
standing by drains that were running red. The other thing of note was a
happy looking black kid goat that was tied up by the door. I presume that just
as in Singapore where you can choose your fish, - in India you can choose
your goat.... nice.

From the bangle department, the fruit and vege department and the
packaged spice stall owner, we eventually emerged onto the streets again.
Here we split into 2, Anita and co looking at scarves and Pamela and I headed
out to look at shoes (for her) and bags (for Kesiah).

[I had a quite specific order from Kesiah for bangles, hena stuff, baggy pants,
and bags like the ones Kiarah and I had purchased in South America. Anita
has bought everything but the bags on previous girl shopping trips, but the
latter is proving difficult to find.]

Again I struck out

After an hour, Melissa, Anita and Pamela decide to head back to home base,
whereas Karen, Stephanie and I are still keen to wander. They are keen to
find scarves, I’m just happy to be out and about. We wander down MG road
in a particular direction but do not find what they are after. We run out of
stall/shop type businesses and start running into light manufacturing
business, so we turn around and head back in the direction we came from.

Energies are starting to run low...

it is around 3pm and we hadn’t
had lunch yet. No food and no
scarves... things were looking
grim. In the back of my head I
recalled a mall with McDonalds in
the general area and after asking
around a couple of times, we
were pointed in a direction
towards the mall... and surprise,
surprise, we started hitting the
scarf stalls. Karen and Stephanie
were in scarf heaven.... yippee.

Once they had looked at EVERY scarf (and there were a LOT), we continued
in the direction of the mall. It was now called “Westside”, but I recall it was
SGS mall, there were still some signs saying SGS mall.

We ordered Chinese from a food cart type stall called “Yo China!”. The
service was poor, and the speed of delivery was very slow. They seemed to
have 5 people behind the counter, one of whom was the cook. I have no
idea what function the other 4 had. In particular, the fat Chinaman, the only
Chinaman, just stood there and looked into the crowd.

We completed our time with a donut from “Donut Magic”, and then grabbed a
rickshaw back to home base.

There was some relax time before our first official meeting. I was to speak at
Prem’s house to an assortment of his people. It wasn’t too far away. Adam
and Anita didn’t come, it was me and
the rest of the team.

We gathered in his lounge, with an

overflow of teenagers spilling out onto
his balcony, possibly 30 people in total?
I gave my top overseas sermon,
Love/Power and imitating God. I got
some good feedback, and we finished
with praying for people. I feel it went
well. (Glory to God).
 It was back to home base for dinner
and bed. This time we slept well, we
had an extra blanket which
combatted the chill factor caused by
the fan.

It was a reasonably early start this morning (Saturday) with Adam running a
teaching session for the Kondhwa leadership team of about 50. It went really
well with a great feeling between the various sub-churches, the main church
and us kiwis. As always there was exuberant singing.
Chicken Biriyani for lunch.

At the end of the session there were at least a million photos taken of
different combinations of people. Another sign of the Indian economic
prosperity, is that everyone has a smartphone. If everyone took 50 photos (a
conservative estimate, - then there would’ve been 2500 photos taken.
Classic. Different people would disappear with my camera. It will be very
interesting flicking through the results.

It wrapped up about 4pm. It was relax time until dinner. Melissa and I took
Christian and Nathan for an ice cream from Baskin Robbins.

Sunday morning. Earlier than normal start. Chris

and I were being picked up by Arankaur for the 3
hour drive to Mumbai where Pastor Prem has a
new relationship with a church run by Ps Deva
Ranthod (?). Apparently, according to Adam, this
is a church set amongst the “tribal” or “gypsy”
people that had settled on the outskirts of
Mumbai. Personally I couldn’t tell any difference
from the people we’ve been with in Pune, although
Ps Deva himself is a very dark-skinned man.

The church operates in a school. It’s a Christian

school and it opens itself up for all the churches in
the area on a Sunday morning, - so there were
multiple churches operating within the school at the
same time, just in different classrooms.
The worship was very vibrant, - very similar
to the Khondwa style... energetic dancing
with frenetic congas and electronic drum
pads. Chris and I had been placed in the
front row desks, - but we soon got out of our
seats to join the chaos.

My dancing was too great for my body, and I

think I pulled my calf muscle. [did I mention
my stuffed knee that I twisted awkwardly in
NZ before I left NZ? – same leg...] but in
true trooper style I found a way to do most
of my “dancing” on the one leg. I hope that
doesn’t break.

So...anyway we were introduced and given

flowers, and then I talked about Jonah and a
shortened version of my Love/Power sermon.
Again I think it went well. I had been worried, because earlier in the car
Alankaur had mentioned that he would be the translator, which had worried
me because he didn’t seem to understand me. But my fears were allayed
when a guy called Prakash stepped up and translated for me.

It ended on time and then what followed were a million photos in different
combinations. Person a, b and c with me, then individually with me, then a
and c, then a and d, then d and b... you get the picture.

By the time we got back onto the road, - the attention had turned towards
the car, that was not starting. It was turning over, just not firing into life.
Alankaur is a mechanic, but there were many others offering opinions and
poking things in the engine. During our time on the pavement waiting, a
Hindu funeral march walked past. The Christians went very quiet and
respectful, but I felt every eye turn in my direction. It felt tense, - like on the
Gandhi movie when 1 little spark created huge riots. Perhaps I perceived it
as more fractious than it was (perhaps I didn’t...), I was just happy they
passed.

Adam later told me that in Goa a Hindu funeral procession had passed the
YWAM base, and some of the YWAM students had continued playing a game
of volleyball as the march went passed. They had taken huge offence to that,
and so had come back and wrecked the YWAM base in revenge.

The body was held up high at the front of the march on a stretcher. The
body, and I wasn’t sure whether it was a man or a woman, was being taken,
presumably, to a pyre where they will be returned to mother earth.
After half an hour the car eventually burst into life. Ps Alankaur told me that
the car does not like being in the sun. Although they had parked it in the
shade, the passage of time had meant the car was now in full sun.

The ride home was punctuated with a stop

at McDonalds where I had a Chicken
Maharaj burger, and numerous traffic snarl
ups and roadworks especially as we got
closer to Pune. The trip that had only
taken 3 hours on the way in to Mumbai,
was going on and on and on. Alankaur
and buddy (sorry buddy, I can’t remember
your name, other than it’s a hard name to
remember), were clearly getting agitated
as they were fielding more and more calls
on their mobiles. I think Adam/Anita were probably getting concerned that
we wouldn’t have a break before going to the Kohndwa church service that
night.

Eventually the decision was made that we would not go back to home base,
but would go directly to Kondhwa church which is up a steep hill. We were
there 20 minutes before the service started with Adam and co arriving shortly
after us.

I couldn’t decide whether the church building was the same church building
that I had been to before, or whether it was different. If it was the same,
then they had definitely kitted it out with new curtains. The corrugated iron
roof was held up by bamboo and the dirt floor had (mostly) a form of carpet
on the floor. I’m not sure what it would have been like in the rainy season.

This was a combined service involving all of the satellite churches (Satara,
Gohpuri, Hadupsar, etc... I had had it explained that there were now 7
satellites, but no one seems to know for sure).

The building was packed, and the energy was, as usual, dynamite. The lads
in particular were in good form. One chap was showing me his moves. He
later proudly mentioned to me that he had been in India X-Factor in 20xx. I
vaguely remember him telling me that on a previous visit. I made a big thing
of it (of course) just as I probably did last time. Mummy and sisters were
proud too!

Adam preached a great message, and then came

the photos. Almost as long as the service itself, it
was the same person a, b and c situation
described above, but this time there was an a to z
and each possible combination therein.
It was nearing 11pm when we finally got to eat at Ps Prem’s house – Chicken
Biriyani. We were home by midnight... which was way too late given the trip
to Mumbai by train planned for tomorrow.

I didn’t sleep well. Chris got to sleep first

and I couldn’t calm the brain down. I
mostly thought about home improvements
that I want to do over the summer, but
that didn’t help me sleep. I had set the
alarm for 6am, but I didn’t need the alarm,
I was up before it.

The girls had said we needed to be gone

by 7am. They were still fluffing around by
7:15. It was Anita and Baezinha that had
made such a big thing of being ready by
7am, - the Deccan Queen waits for no
man.

We comfortably found our seats in the non-A/C section

(?) and the trip was reasonably unmemorable. The train
was full to the outskirts of Mumbai and then it started
clearing out. By the time we got to VT station (which
the Indians have renamed), there were very few people
on it.

It was decided early on that we would split into the

“markets” people and the “Elephanta” people, me being
in the latter party. Adam had told me about this island
(30 minute boat ride) where someone 1500 years ago
had carved caves out of solid rock and turned them into
temples. It was one of the few things I haven’t done yet
in Mumbai. Adam, Melissa and I headed off to the
Taj/Gateway. We were most disappointed to see that
the caves were closed on Mondays, (great), so that
scuttled out plans. After walking
around the gateway, we headed in
the direction of A/C and found
Starbucks. I can recommend the
Strawberry and cream which is even
doubly awesome after being in
extreme heat.

We realised we couldn’t spend

forever at Starbucks, so we ventured
out again. This time to find the old
antique shops I had found on an earlier
visit, and possibly the McDs. We found
one antique shop and a “McDonalds is
closed” sign. We walked some more
until we started to melt.

We found “Leopolds cafe” which had

been one of the targets that the
terrorists had attacked a few years ago.
So we ate Chicken stirfry, club
sandwiches and Water Buffalo shesh
kebab in the venue where people
had died.
What then proceeded was a frantic conversation between “market group” and
“elephanta group” via facebook messenger. We missed the appointed time
for re-grouping, but the new instructions were confusing and I could see the
heat arising from Adam and it wasn’t from the shesh kebab because he didn’t
eat any. It was particularly frustrating because all communications from
‘market group’ ceased while we were still trying to confirm. We took a
chance and caught a taxi to the railway station where we waited at the
entranceway. Still no communication. After 20 minutes we eventually took a
peek inside only to discover them waiting inside. Adam vented. So there we
were in the station almost an hour early! I had skipped some of my water
buffalo in the rush! Douh!
We climbed aboard the train, this time
into the A/C compartment and we were
off....

One lasting impression especially

around the Gateway and the railway
station was the heavy presence of the
police/army. All were carrying some
type of antiquated semi-automatic
weaponry. They had clearly been
embarrassed by the terrorist attacks,
and would be ensuring that that did not
happen again.

There were a few vehicles in camouflage with the word “marksman” on the
side. I presume at the first sign of trouble, they would jump in the fully
armoured vehicle and the sharpshooter inside would do the business,
minimising the slaughter of innocents.

At the train station in an inconspicuous corner was a sandbagged position

facing the front doors where 2 servicemen kept watch with semi-automatics
pointed at the entranceway. There was a sign saying “please no enquiries”
dangling from the sandbags. It seemed to me to be a redundant sign, I don’t
think anyone would mistake it for an i-site or a place to buy an ice cream.

Today is the day we are off to the children’s orphanage near Indore.

There had been some discussion whether we really needed to leave for the
airport 3 hours before the flight to Indore was due to depart, in the end, it
was probably a good idea. With 8 bags of clothes and toys to deliver and
with typical Indian efficiency, just checking in was a bit of a mission. As it
was, we almost left behind one bag at the X-ray machine.

We were flying Jet Airways, and it was actually a modern, efficient service on
a modern efficient plane. The cabin crew looked more-Chinese than your
average Indian, so were probably from north-west India. The food selection
was a vege bread roll or a chicken bread roll. Adam scammed a second.

We landed at Indore to be greeted by VJ who runs the YWAM orphanage.

We received garlands made of orange marigolds, I thought they were
associated with Hindu worship, - perhaps not. We squeezed into 2 vehicles,
luggage and all, and off we set on the next 3 hours of our journey.

The roads were actually in far better condition and we were definitely in a
more relaxed environment. Madhay Pradesh is a much more rural area than
we’d seen before and we drove, on reasonably good roads, through well-
worked land, complete with irrigation channels and farmers tending to those
fields.

We stopped for lunch at a restaurant, where it was vege in the front part (the
nice part) and carnivores down the back, - which was a bit more Spartan.
This area is a fundamental Hindu area, in fact, VJ was telling us that the town
we drove through Ujjain/ and the river we drove across, the Shipra, is the
site of one of the largest Hindu festivals in India (and thereby, one of the
largest festivals in the world). Uncle Google informs me that according to
Hindu mythology, Lord Vishnu dropped 4 drops from the drink of immortality
into 4 different rivers, leading to 4
different festivals throughout India.
This site is apparently the site of the
Maha Kumbh Mela which is held every
12 years, the last time only a few
months ago. Apparently there are
naked gunga-chewing swamis
wandering around. One website I see
claims 75 million attended. At a
different site in 2013, apparently 120
million attended.

We continued our travels stopping for

a couple of trains, and at a pharmacy
for Anita to buy some more tablets
for various ills within the team. I
have picked up a reasonable cold,
sore throats in the morning and snot
for Africa through the day.

We arrive at the orphanage which is

a 100-year old Canadian mission
station. Apparently in 1990 it closed
up due to lack of interest and was
gathering dust/decay, as many
Indian buildings do, until VJ entered
into a 99 year lease in 2008 and
breathed new life into it as a YWAM
base and orphanage. Many of the
kids are from the Bhandri tribe who
have the disgusting custom of
prostituting their eldest daughter. I
whisper to Anita, that if we happen
to spot a Bhandri father, then we
should stop so I can beat the crap
out of him. Anita suggested that
might not be a positive action.

The last 5 kms is a pretty bumpy

road as we hit Vijay’s village. This is
definitely rural India. As we turn a
corner near the outskirts of the
town, a large old church comes into
view, it’s an impressive sight. Its
grey, but all the edging is painted
white. There is definitely an Asian
feel to the church with the windows
looking almost mosque-ish in their
shape. Past the church is the
orphanage. The cars pull up just in
front of the large 2 storey mission
house, and we are ushered to our
room,- the girls in one, Adam and
Anita in another and blessing oh
blessing, - a room for me and Chris
with 2 beds in it. I don’t even care
that 1 is simply a mattress on the
floor (which I take).

We hear singing from the far end of

the compound, across a grassy field,
and given we are all quite eager to
see the kids, we quickly make our
way across to the girl’s compound
where all the kids are having a
worship time. It’s very sweet with
kids leading kids in worship. One of
the older kids is playing acoustic
guitar and another is playing the
congas. I note the rather flimsy
stand for the conga has 2 other
children propping it up so the conga
player doesn’t have to worry that it
will fall apart. There are 7-8 girls
lined up as the backing singers.
Essentially this seems to be a kid-
run enterprise!

For the worship we are sat at the

back, and I got to admit that I felt
very weepy. These kids deserve a
chance in life just as much as
anyone else does in this world.

After the worship we are ushered

up the front where we are given
more garlands. (or are they the
same ones, just rescued from the
cars?)

After shaking 150 kids’ hands and

saying “J Maseeky” (“Jesus is
Lord”) each time, the kids prepare
themselves for dinner. They each
take off their sandals or jandals in a
perfect line and then stand in
perfect lines according to size.
Each line is then ushered up to the
food servers (again kids) who place
a dahl and roti combination in their
trays. They then sit on long mats
that have been laid out in parallel
lines on the gravel floor of the
compound. This process works like
clockwork. I pass a casual remark
that I noted the boys went first,
but VJ replied that because the
boys have to walk back to their
sleeping area, and they still have
the same homework that the girls
have to do, that they eat first so
that they can leave first.
After their dinner, we get shown the girl’s sleeping
rooms. There are 3 bedrooms, all have bunks, and the largest room seems to
have room for 40-50 girls in one room. I see toothbrushes poking out of the
bunk main supports, and while each bed is unique with different blankets
etc., there is uniformity in 1 thing in particular, - there is absolutely no clutter.
With so many girls, one would expect to see junk everywhere, - but there is
no junk, in fact I assume, there are very few earthly possessions.

The girls gather for a prayer session sitting on the concrete outside their
bedrooms, - again run by other kids for the kids – and not necessarily the
older kids either.
At this point we leave and walk back to our residence, which is next door to
the boy’s bunkroom. This is a very large room where all the boys stay in
similar style bunkrooms. When we poke our heads in the door, they are all
sitting on the floor doing homework with a couple of older boys undertaking
some kind of supervision.

I ask who snores the most, and there is generally agreement that there are 2
boys (obviously friends) that appear to have the nomination of most of the
others.

Given they are supposed to be doing homework, we don’t intrude too long,
before heading upstairs, through our bedroom onto the veranda where our
dinner was served.

It’s a late-ish day after a long day of travel to a new destination, but
surprisingly the bed does not induce
sleep straight away. The pillows are
like concrete, so I use one of my
blankets as a pillow instead.

I am up before my 6am alarm. I am

keen to get some shots of the sunrise.
When I immerge onto the veranda,
Adam is already there and has
determined the direction he thinks the
sun will come up in.

We wait. We decide the trees are in the wrong

place so we go downstairs and try to seek a better
vantage point. Time is ticking but still no sight of
the sun. The sky is actually getting pretty light, yet
no sun?

We finally find a great spot on the neighbour’s

property between the girl’s compound and the main
building. There is a little boy gathering up the cow
dung into cowpats (which
they use as fuel) and I think
he enjoys the company of 2
big fat white men desperately
trying to see the sun.

The boy’s parents obviously

farm the land as they have
rows and rows of tangerines.
I understand that they will at
some point in the future plant wheat in
between the rows of tangerines. Interesting.

Anyway... it was well after 7am when the sun

finally arises. I zap a million photos.
Rather than return to bed, - Adam and I
head off into the town. There are some
great sites to be seen. People are
generally very house proud, sweeping
outside the front of their houses and/or
shops. There was one boy having a
crap with the door onto the street wide
open... nice.

There were 2 neighbours, obviously

house-proud, wanting photos. I have to
say, they had the 2 tidiest houses I have
ever seen in India. One was purples in
colour with a nice balustrade as a fence,
the other was freshly painted for Diwali
in reggae colours. Good on ya fellas, -
love your work!

To my horror, I find my SD card

in the camera is full, and so I
quickly delete a few, especially
from the time at the Leadership
conference when I had lent my
camera to some guys who had
taken heaps of photos of smiling
conference people... (boring).
We arrive back in time for breakfast
and regale everyone with our
intrepid tales of adventure.
Later that morning we are formally welcomed. This time there is a dude with
a turban sitting up the front. He is the main village turban man, and he
wraps Adam, Chris and I in Maharaj turbans, we are giving garlands (again)
and then a shawl. We are told this is the highest honour in India (perhaps
second only to opening the batting in test cricket). I get an orange turban.
Not my favourite colour in the world. In fact it is my second least favourite
colour behind pink.

The kids then give a

performance which is a
selection of dances. The
pinnacle was a dance
performed by 7 boys in green
who danced to some type of
Indian anthem song. It
involved a human pyramid and
the waving of an Indian flag.
Go India.
The kids have been given the morning off school
because of our presence, and it is now time for us
to give our presents... toys and clothes from NZ.
In particular someone in church (who to this day
remains anonymous) had hand-knitted 50 (ish)
teddy bears. It was like Christmas with the girls
passing out the stuff. I took as many photos as I
could, but I was conscious my SD card would not
handle individual photos of everyone.
For the rest of the morning
I see kids playing with
their toys. Even the boys
are playing boy games
with their teddies. They are thrown
into the air, thrown at each other,
they are totally loved. The balloons
were also a hit. They are thrown in
the air. Gradually through the
morning they are popped. As are
the stickers. I am surprised how the
boys, even teenage boys are
impressed with their new stickers!!
If I was 13 years old and someone
gave me some stickers and a teddy
bear, - I’d be ‘like whatever’, - but
having toys is clearly a unique thing
to these kids.

There is a birthday boy who turned

13. He has been given a toy dog
that you can use as a puppet. I notice he had it with him much later in the
day when we were playing cricket. He was fielding in the outfield and had
this toy propped up in the outfield with him. He was very proud of this toy.
It’s getting hot for us white
fellas, so we wander back to
our shaded balcony.

It is then that we become

aware of 2 big news events.

Donald Trump has won the US

presidential election. We are
staggered. All the polls had
pointed to a Hillary Clinton
victory, but the old boy has
won. I have conflicting
thoughts about this. Firstly, he
is a dick. He has said some
stuff which is either totally
bizarre (let’s build a wall to
keep the Mexicans out and we’ll
get Mexico to pay for it) or just
crude (comments about women). However, he is anti-abortion and a
conservative on so many issues where Hillary is a liberal. God help us.

The other staggering news is that the 500 rupee notes have been
immediately withdrawn from circulation. For us this is CRAZY news. We are
stuck in the middle of rural India with very little else other than 500 rupee
notes, it’s what the ATMs spit out! Personally I have about $NZ120 worth of
500 rupee notes. The team funds are all in 500 rupee notes. They have
become worthless overnight because the government wants to crackdown on
“black money”. Through the day further info seeps through. We will need to
go to the banks to change the notes from the old to the new, but banks are
closed for the next 2 days. I can imagine the chaos when banks reopen as 1
billion people try to change their money over! Only in India. I’m sure the
Illuminati are involved somehow along with Elvis and Bigfoot.

After lunch we head over to the school. It is a government approved 2

storied building with 10 different classrooms arranged by age. Most of the
teaching is done by a kid up the front pointing a ruler at a board and chanting
the lesson, e.g. kid up front - “A is for apple” - pointing to the well-used
alphabet chart, - “A is for apple” – repeat the class and so one and so one.
The same is repeated in different classrooms for maths (the times table) and
English.

We end up in the principal’s office where I note the globe is upside down in
its holder. The OCD part of me corrects it.

School lessons are cut short and the entire school assemble outside where I
give a short little message with my 2 amazing magic tricks. While illustrating
what Jonah did when God told him to go to Ninevah, I tweaked my knee
again on the shiny concrete stage.

In the late afternoon the girls did handicrafts and the boys played cricket or
football. I played cricket but re-tweaked my knee with the first ball I bowled.
The pitch was of dubious quality and the bowling was of very suspect action.
I was the only one that had a straight arm, the rest were chuckers!

For dinner we go to VJ’s house to celebrate VJ brother’s 23rd wedding

anniversary. They had set it out very nicely outside, and we were served
really nice food with the usual traditional Indian hospitality. The strange
thing (to us anyway) was that the couple didn’t participate in the celebration.

Chris snoring again.

Breakfast. The sweet rice stuff... not really my cup of tea. However we had
2 boiled eggs and some chapatti/roti things to munch away on.

We were packed and gone only 5-10 minutes later than the original target
time, not bad for a group of 7 kiwis, 4 of which are females.

The car ride was reasonably uneventful, to the point where I tried to catch-up
on some sleep. Stephanie, sitting next to me, took a faux “selfie” as I dosed
from a very uncomplimentary angle. Well done to her though because she
also did the thumbs up sign, a pose I have personally crafted to awesome
artistic effect. Oh well...

The return to Indore was much faster than the trip from Indore 2 days
earlier. This time we didn’t stop at the pharmacy, at the “holy” river, for 2
trains, for lunch or for petrol... just straight through.

We arrived and cleared check in with over an hour to spare. We all thought it
a good idea to crash at the restaurant within the airport. Nice food. As per
usual I ate too much. Others ate the club sandwich (boring!). Adam and I
tucked into Chicken Masala, Chicken Kadai, Chicken lollipops, rotis etc... etc...
etc... This was our first attempt at cashing in the 500 rupee notes that had
just been banned, and I think Anita was relieved when they took them, no
problem at all, though we suspect that is because this is a government/airport
operation and there has been an instruction that government institutions will
accept the old currency. In fact according to the newspaper, Indians had
flooded the Mumbai train station and have been buying very cheap train
tickets and paying with a 500 rupee note to get the change, not caring about
the train ticket.
Our flight is uneventful, although we have the Madya Pradesh cricket team on
board with us. On ya fellas. I pass on the chicken roll... after the lunch I’ve
just eaten, I feel like Mr Creosote from Monty Python’s “The meaning of life”.

We book 2 pre-paid taxis at the airport taxi stand, again paying with the old
500 rupee notes and we arrive safe and sound back at our home base.

Pamela is keen to try the local bank to get some of the old currency changed
to the new currency. I agree to go, and before you know it, it’s a team trip to
the bank.

People are queuing at the door, and everyone is given a form to complete.
You can change a maximum of 4,000 rupees. I have 5,500. The Indian lady,
who seems to wield great power around the branch, allows us inside to sit on
the chairs. Apparently there is another queue downstairs in the dungeon
where the real cash changing process is taking place.

It is an interesting experience. We are told that we also need photocopies of

our passports, and that we have to list the individual serial numbers of the
notes on the back of the form. Adam suggests this is bureaucracy gone mad,
but we just comply.

I make polite conversation with the man in front of me, he has just returned
from London where his son works in IT. He did a 10km run as part of the
London marathon... good on ya bro. But oh the hell he unleashed when he
finally got to the front of the queue. Apparently he was trying to change 2
lots of 4,000 rupees, - 1 for himself and one for his absent wife, who had not
countersigned the photocopied ID card. Talk about a scene. As next in line I
was patiently waiting and semi-enjoying the exchange. I was eventually
given 20 x 100 rupee notes and a crisp new 2,000 rupee note. The new note
looks like the red toner on the photocopy machine is running low, like a pastel
red/pink. Compared to the new NZ notes, - they are fairly average. Still it’s
nice to have the 100’s stashed away in my pocket.

(I actually feel like I have too many rupees, I only have 4 days left and could
survive reasonably cheaply, - so later that night I give my 2,000 note to
Melissa. Apparently she tried and failed to get more cash out of an ATM.
When we get home we will have to work out the difference between 100
Singaporean dollars that Melissa owes me, and 3,000 rupees, that I owe
Melissa. It probably means that she owes me $NZ40 I’m guessing...)

I find a shop nearby that sells camera SD cards, but I decide to come back
tomorrow and try and pay with the remaining 500 rupee notes that I have.

I vaguely recall Pastor Prem mentioning that I may be preaching at Gopuri

tonight. I return to home base to discover that I am preaching at Hadupsar.
After a full day of travel, it wouldn’t be my first choice, - but hey – what can
you do. Anita tells me, to ask them to bring us home straight after I’m done,
and to avoid getting them to feed us as it could last hours.

Chris and I are picked up by Alankaur and get chauffeured to the church.

It’s a nice place, - a wedding hall – painted in 2 different tones of green.

There is a lawn mower at the back of the church and I’m told there is a really
nice big lawn out there used for weddings.

So I preach, - do my tricks, everyone is amazed at my awesome magical

talents – and I’m done. I start coughing during my prayer for the people, - I
did well to last that long (my cold is rather heavy), - and then there are the
endless shaking of hands. Pastor AJ’s wife, Romulpi, was my translator
(again last time 2009?) She did a great job, although gets stuck on a few of
my words – kiwisms or kiwi accent.

At the end I mention to Pastor AJ that is has been a long day and that we
should just go home (per Anita instructions). But AJ says that the food is
“already on the way” and that we only need “5 minutes”. We agree to stay
(suckers... I can here Anita tell me off in my head).

So we eat our chicken biriyani, I review a lot of photos of pools (AJ runs a
high-end swimming pool manufacturing/installation company) and we are
finally dropped off home about an hour and a half later.

Unfortunately Chris and I had just

started a new system with our key,
where we leave it on the cabinet by
the door in VJ’s house. Because we
are so late, and everyone has gone to
sleep, we tentatively knock...
increasing in loudness until finally
Karen greets us at the door. I don’t
think she likes getting woken up in the
middle of the night after a long day’s
travel... don’t know why. In fact she
was like the ‘monster from the deep”.

We retreat to our room, and again I

take a long time to get to sleep.

I am really looking forward to my own

room in Sri Lanka now... I’m counting
down the days....
.
So, it’s Friday. I go for a walk to
purchase that SD card. Done

Adam drives us to the YWAM base, I

think he loves driving in Indian
traffic. He has 5 minutes to address
the latest cohort, and the
miscellaneous staff that remember
him. It’s kinda strange he only gets
5 minutes, - but I don’t think the big
leadership guy knows him (perhaps
threatened by him?).

So we are back home by 11am.

I wander down to the shop and buy

a water and a big mango juice
bottle for lunch and a big lemonade
and 2 x Pringles for the security
crew at the gate. I’m not sure they
understand it is a gift from me to
them, - but I leave it with them and
walk off.

At 1pm, Suman picks us up

(excluding Anita and Adam) and takes us
to Pimpiri. Her Dias Plot work stopped 4-5
years ago, she says there was “some
problem”, and I think she mentioned the
word “Muslims”, but I didn’t push. She is
an amazing lady and is now a fully
qualified doctor! Apparently a doctor
friend, who used to be a really good friend
of her departed husband, EJ, sponsored
Suman through her studies, which has
made a huge difference what she can do
in her medical camps. She also mentioned that she can participate in
“surgeries” although when Karen pushed a bit further (being a NZ nurse), we
are not quite sure what that means.
Her work in Pimpiri is in the same place that it was 2009
when I visited 8 years ago, which is good because I
bought some hard copy photos of that time to try
and find the same people now. There were
butchers, bicycle repairmen, sugar juice extractors
etc... I actually show the photos to one of Suman’s
staff, and she points to one photo of an old man,
that is one of my favourite shots, and says, - that’s
my granddad! [In a world of coincidences, as we
were leaving later that afternoon, I saw 2
gentlemen sitting on a seat with great old men
faces, so I asked if I could take photos. After taking
the photo and once I was sitting in the car, I
thought to myself, gosh one of them looks like that
very same man from 8 years ago, - just a bit more
skinnier/frailer. I am now absolutely
convinced it’s the same guy. I will seek 2016
him out again tomorrow!]

Anyway, - it’s a bit awkward being in

Suman’s rooms. Conversation doesn’t
flow awesomely, I’m not sure why... I
think it’s culturally. She is obviously very
proud of the work her team undertake, -
she runs the medical camps, a school for
250 kids out of a tiny little room, she
runs a sewing course for ladies, she runs a beauty course for ladies (10 of
which who graduated last year now have their own businesses), a counselling
course and youth group. Truly inspirational.
We have Chai and she proudly shows her
locked medical supplies, and then we pop next
door to say hi to the class (50 kids crushed into
a tiny classroom.) I do my magic tricks and we
try to teach them “Father Abraham” and
another similar song (whose name escapes me
now).
Stephanie had been taken to the ladies sewing class, but I think she got
weird-ed out because they couldn’t speak English and Stephanie certainly
can’t speak Marati, so apparently they just pointed and stared at her and
giggled.
About 5pm we were back at home base. Adam and Anita were just leaving to
have a session with the Pune pastors at the Chinese restaurant. Us other 5
were left to sort our own dinner arrangements out. Chris only wanted an
easy/familiar dinner and was keen for a fillet-o-fish from McDs just across the
road, but the girls had McDs the previous evening when Chris and I had gone
to Hadupsar. Pamela suggested a steakhouse called sizzlers that sounded
very nice, just around the corner from Aurora Towers opposite the
Westside/SGS mall... so off we go in 2 rickshaws. We get there and the 2
rickshaw meters are essentially 1 rupee different, - a good result I think.

We walk around the corner, and walk and walk and walk. Pamela had
mentioned that it was “just around the corner” and indeed, when we stop a
gentlemen and asked him he confirmed that we must have walked past it, so
back we go paying extra special attention to fining this place.

We are successful in that we find it. But it has a “closed” sign on the door
accompanied with a “we do not accept 500 or 1,000 rupee notes” sign. Dang!

We dither a little and Melissa checks her GPS. It brings up George restaurant,
which is something I recall from earlier visits and it’s very close by. We
navigate a couple of road crossing, which is not straightforward because the
traffic is a bit manic, - Friday night on MG road.

The menu is almost entirely Indian, but rather than keep looking or going to
somewhere like “Pizza Hut” or worse, McDs, we settled for Georges.

We ordered, we ate, Melissa tried to pay by credit card but failed, we hauled
out our precious 100 rupee notes and left.

We wandered the markets for a while and then

split up, - Stephanie and Melissa wanted to look
at fabric, and Karen and I were on the hunt for
boy’s t-shirts. I gotta say, I am really
disappointed with the boy t-shirt selection
options these days. Nothing. Absolutely
nothing worth purchasing.

Karen and I head back and coincidently Melissa

and Stephanie are just pulling in too.

Straight to bed... but not straight to sleep.

PS – I cannot believe the amount of snot I’m

blowing out of my nose at the moment. I have
been putting some Vapo rub stuff on my upper
lip throughout the day (and night) and I’m still
blocked up with a dam of snot.
Saturday.

Off to Suman’s for a “medical

camp”. I know this will involve
Karen (as a nurse) and us others
will be lesser involved. Sure
enough Karen is straight into
checking temperatures, blood
pressure etc... there is a steady
stream of mostly kids coming and
a steady supply of calcium pills,
vitamins, antibiotics etc.. being
prescribed. Karen quietly
mentions that there are certain
things that are done a bit
different back home, but overall
I think she is impressed with the
results achieved.

On arrival the same man I’d

been thinking of through the
night, the one I had taken a
photo of all those years ago (and
yesterday), was sitting by the
entranceway again. I
immediately sat with him and
pulled out my old photos and
confirmed it was definitely him.
I gave him both photos, and I
think he was very happy. During
the morning we took a walk,
hoping to find some more of the
people from the photos. We
asked a few people if they could
identify anyone from the photos,
- one guy pointed to himself in the
bicycle repair shop photo. I was
saddened to find out that one lady
had passed away, but I managed to
give the photo to her family. We
weren’t very successful with most of
the photos, but we were successful in
attracting hordes of kids and on-
lookers, each keen to be part of new
photos. Who knows in 5 years’ time,
perhaps I could bring them back
again and go on another walk of
discovery. I particularly like taking
photos of the really old people, their
faces chiselled by a thousand stories.
For lunch Suman takes us to
a really nice hotel for a
banquet lunch. I eat like a
pig (again)... it’s mostly
Indian and really spicy.
Suman tells us more of her
stories and her Ministry and
it’s hard not to get a little
weepy.

We return to the Pimpiri

building where we pray for
her team, and then we are delivered home.

I find talking to Suman difficult at times, I know her English is not great, but
it’s not the language that is the main problem. It’s our two completely
different backgrounds. She’s an orphan, widower, mother of a stillborn child
who works tirelessly and passionately for her people. I am none of those
things. It’s confronting and challenging and even if language was no barrier
then a divide would still exist. But still we do connect, and I do everything I
can to encourage her and build her up.

We had a few hours to kill before going to Ravi’s house for dinner.
Apparently he has said to Adam, that we have never been to his house before
and he is most insistent that it happen this time!

Ravi’s place was really nice, though I felt sorry for his Alsatian dog, looked up
in a cage on his balcony. That the type of dog that needs space.... anyway...
what can you say. Ravi’s wife had cooked up some KFC-type chicken as
appetisers followed by Chicken Biriyani. I left full (again).

The highlight of the conversation was Ravi’s practical demonstration between

a “yes” indicated by a slight jiggle of the head, and a “no” indicated by a
(slightly) more energetic jiggling of the head. For us white folks it’s an art
form we clearly haven’t mastered yet.

Sunday is a reasonably slow starting day... Chris, Karen, Melissa and I are
driven by Ps Prem to Gohndwa, while Adam, Anita and Steff are taken to
Hadapsur.

I preach, but I’m really not sure I break it open. I seem to get blank
expressions back, even when I do my magic book trick which usually goes
down a real treat! I preach for 45 minutes, which is a struggle... but I finish,
and I’m done! Just one more church service and that’s for Adam tonight, - so
I’m HAPPY! We end up praying for some people at the end, - one 17 year old
girl sticks out in the memory, as her husband had just left her and gone back
to his mum! (She looked 15).
Prem shouted us McDs for lunch (right opposite the
road from VJ’s house so we were back about 2pm-
3pm for a wee nap.

I headed out 4:30ish to find somewhere to develop

my orphanage photos. I wanted to give them to
Pamela to take to the orphanage next time she
goes! I found one, and for 5 rupees each (10
cents each), I ordered 110. Pamela will pick them
up tomorrow as I’ll be flying to Sri Lanka.

I hear about the Hanmer Springs earthquake for

the first time which seems to have rattled the
whole of the south island/lower north island for a
very long time. Posts from Kapiti people suggest
that it is the strongest they’ve ever felt. It sounds
like everyone is all right?

We go to Khondwa at night... this time the

electricity goes down through the worship, they
make do with some acapella stuff until it comes
back on for Adam’s preaching. While it was off,
many people held out their cellpone lights to
provide some kind of emergency lighting, including
myself. It is really disturbing how much dust is swirling in the light of my
cellphone, no wonder I’ve had a sore throat like forever!

Adam has asked that we just go home after

the service rather than go out for dinner, or
have it bought to us. I think everyone is
really tired and is looking forward to
crashing. When we do get home, Chris, Stef,
Karen and I go back to McDs, for a very
quick bite, and then its bedtime.

[Note I’ve borrowed 200 Rupees from Karen and another 200 Rupees from
Stef. I’m just not sure how much money I will need tomorrow... I will have to
get myself to the Mumbai international airport.]

Early start, Adam’s dropping me

off for the Deccan Queen that
departs at 7:15 (and it really did at
exactly 7:15am). The trip was
uneventful, I was sandwiched
between 2 Indian blokes and
staring into the cherry faces of 2
Indian blokes and one of their
daughters. The chants of “chai,
chai, chai”, and “cheese toas,
cheese toas, cheese toas” fill the
air.
We arrive10:20 and I step outside into a barrage of
taxi drivers wanting a fare. I suspect with the
debacle around the 500 rupee note, these fellas are
even more desperate for a fare than normal. I am
quoted 200 rupees to the Gateway of India, but (a)
I think I can walk there; (b) I think I know the
way, (c) I need the exercise (d) money is really
tight and even 200 rupees ($NZ4) is an
extravagance at the moment.

I start walking. It appears that I do not know the

walk to the Gateway. In fact somehow I end up
taking a very picturesque walk in a triangle ending
up where I started. I asked a few people if they
could point me in the generally direction, but were
surprised to find that they did not know either.
Douh? The biggest landmark in Mumbai, only a
couple of kilometres away and they didn’t know?

Anyway, - I kept following my nose until I could

see the large white hotel next to the Taj Mahal (is
it part of the Taj? ... I’m not sure), anyway, - I
walked towards that and boom, - 200 rupees
saved! After an hour long walk in the Mumbai heat, and
with the great sense of achievement having saved my 200
rupees I decided to head to the Starbucks cafe. I got me
the large Strawberries and cream drink and an egg and
cheese muffin thing. Very tasty. I had no twang of
conscious as I charged up the 600 rupees on the card.

The large unknown was always going to be how long it

would take, and how much it would cost to get to the
airport from Mumbai central. Adam had advised the
quickest/cheapest way was to get to the Churchgate train
station (i.e. not the one I just got off from on the Deccan
Queen) and catch a train to the Andheri station, to then
catch a rickshaw to the airport.

So, - I caught a taxi from Starbucks to churchgate. Taxi dude was imploring
me to use him to take me all the way to the airport, but I played dumb, using
the language thing as an excuse to just get me to Churchgate. By the way,
the insides of his taxi was a crazy bomb of colour, like some kind of explosion
in a 1970’s plastic table cloth factory, pictures of bunches of fruit adorned the
roof, - very classy. Anyway, - we got to the station and surprise, surprise, he
had no change for my 100 rupee note, - not a great start to my money saving
trip.
Inside the train station, I found queues for Africa lined up in front of the
ticket buying windows... my heart suddenly plummeted, and I’m thinking,
doing it this way maybe a VERY bad idea... it could take 2 hours just to get to
buy a ticket... when I notice an automated ticket machine that NO-ONE was
using. Perhaps it doesn’t give change, and therefore people can’t use it to
cash in their 500 rupee notes?

Thankfully, some smart looking dude that understood English swung by as I

was looking at the machine in bewilderment. He purchased his ticket, and
then, because I still wasn’t confident of following the steps he’d just shown
me, - he walked me though it so I could buy mine. Ten rupees ($NZ0.20) for
a ticket – and that’s to the end of the line!

The train itself was comfy (much more so than the Deccan Queen), with the
fans working (not like the Deccan Queen), where my fellow travellers enjoyed
the wind in their faces like me (not like the Deccan Queen). It was so
relaxing, - that I feel asleep, and only woke up when some other passengers
that were alighting at the end of the line whistled at me.

The Andheri station was very busy, but I got myself to the East side of the
tracks (as Adam told me) and I found a rickshaw. Rip off number 2. It cost
180 rupees. The thing was I knew I should’ve insisted on the meter, and I
knew I should have walked away, but dang it, - I just wanted to get to the
airport now, - and I was prepared to pay the (almost) $NZ4 to get there.

So in the game of economy, I think I won, - but I took some big hits in the
Mumbai taxi and the Andheri rickshaw which
almost evened things up.

The Mumbai airport is now stunning. It is fair

to say, that a few years ago it was a piece of
shit (literally), but now there are signs saying
that they have been rated number airport in
the world (?). I need to check that... I think
that’s a bold call, - BUT, never-the-less, the
airport is a million billion times better than it
was. There are classy shops, duty-
free shops, no-smelly toilets,
carefully architecturally designed
bits, and even very tasteful arty-
farty bits. I am impressed. I
actually spend a bit of time lying on
the floor by the departure gate, it’s
good for my back and I’m getting
that tiredness thing come over me, -
I don’t want to make mistakes in a
new country.
The flight is great, expect for the entertainment system dying in the middle of
my Batman v Superman movie meaning that I had to fast forward when it
eventually came back on and that meant I missed the end of it.... douh!

The immigration was the easiest immigration ever... there was almost no-one
manning their customs /’do you have anything to declare’ bit. And the on-line
application for a visa thingy was not even looked at.

....and then, courtesy of the tourism board (thank you very much), you get
given a Sri Lankan sim card!

I changed $US 100 into the local rupee (different from Indian rupee) and
then followed trip advisor advice to catch a bus into the Colombo city. I’m
still trying to figure out the currency exchange rate, - but I think it’s about
$NZ 2. It is a long way from the airport and it gives me an opportunity to
catch up on Messenging Helen, Facebook and NZ Herald.

When we get to the end of the bus line (Colombo), I know I have to catch
another bus or tuk tuk (as they are called here) to Mt Lavinia. Everyone else
alights from the bus, but the bus driver and his attendant try to talk me into
paying them to drop me off at the door of the hotel I have booked. They
want 2,000 rupees but I smell a rat. They tell me a tuktuk will cost 1,500
rupees... but I decline their offer. The first tuktuk doesn’t understand me, -
but politely refers me to a buddy behind him. The second one does
understand a bit of English and knows where the hotel is, - so we are off!

It turns out being quite some distance, but still only costs 600 rupees.
Hmmm.... lesson number 1: impressions are that Sri Lankans seem to be
much friendlier/happier people than their Indian counterparts, but some are
still out to be-twiddle you.

The hotel is so-so, but at $NZ42 for 2 nights, - I don’t care. I get a selection
of 2 rooms, and I choose the one furthest from the reception area. Curiously
the reception guy, grabs a screwdriver and de-wires the air conditioning unit,
because I didn’t pay for the A/C. I don’t care, - it’s got a fan... and this will
be the first night I sleep without Chris (the snoring machine) for quite some
time. I think I will sleep like a log!

I’m coughing a lot. I still think I am trying to get India out of my lungs.

I order chicken stirfry and a mountain dew which are delivered to my room.
If my calculations are correct, - it costs me $NZ4.

Despite the cough... I am happy. I will...sleep... wellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll......

snore
Actually I don’t. My cough
continuously wakes me, and I keep
the toilet roll handy for the river of
snot flowing from my interiors. I lie in
bed well into the morning when I take
a call from my beloved... oh how my
heart pines...

We talk for at least an hour (though

every second seems like an eternity of
joyous lotus buds falling from
heaven).

I have a shower, which is laughable,

but compared to what I’ve had for the
last 2 weeks I ain’t complaining.

I have breakfast in the hotel... not

bad for $NZ5 (ish)... in the courtyard
area where some workers are building
some pergola things for people to sit
under. Interesting support poles –
black PVC water pipes filled with
concrete and steel, - clearly wood is
the premium product here. The owner
tells me he will wrap coconut fibre
rope around them, I can imagine them
looking pretty good when they are
done.

I head to the beach across the railway

tracks. It’s the only beach I’ve ever
been to where you have to dodge
trains (and they are fairly regular!)
just to get to the beach.
I have a serious amount of doing ‘nothing’ to do today. On the whole I think
I’m pretty successful at it too. I find a spot under a sun umbrella and I order
drinks all day long. For lunch I have a 3 scoop ice cream sundae. Nice.

I observe the fisherman load the net into the boat, paddle furiously out into
the surf, lower the net and haul in the net repeated 3 times through the 5
hours I was sitting there.

The beach is beautiful golden sand, - the type I REALLY like. The sun is hot
(The iPhone weatherman tells me it’s 31 degrees and that it will stay pretty
constant even through the night, dropping only a few degrees at the lowest
point)

I actually really need a day like today.

I write the lyrics of a song that has been bubbling in my head since I’ve been
on the sub-continent.

I do some planning for 2017.

I just relax.

I watch the feed of stuff the Goans are doing, and I’m not jealous at all... I
think I needed some me time. It’s been a hard year with work, study, house,
ministry, family etc... I really can’t remember when I last did nothing for 5
hours.

I tried to protect my feet from the sun moving the seat every few hours, but
somehow I got sunburnt legs from the knees to my feet... douh!

I also need to visit a pharmacy to get something for my throat so I leave the
beach about 5pm and head the 200 metres up to the main road. The traffic,
the horns, the chaos, is reminiscent of India, but just toned down a few
notches. I like it.

The pharmacist sells me an

opened packet of Strepsils and
some hippie liquid stuff... that
should do the trick, and then I
head back to the beach to
hopefully catch a glimpse of the
sunset. (I must confess I hope to
get a better picture of the sunset
than the Goans)

Perhaps because of this impure

motive, I feel a few spots of rain,
- maybe God’s way of pulling my
head in.

The atmosphere is thick with humidity and it has the feel of immense tropical
downpour at any time, so I duck into a bar and order myself an Apple Cider.
It’s almost $NZ10... ouch. I can’t not buy it now because the bartender has
already taken the top off it.

I make it last.

There is no torrential rain.

...and there is no spectacular sunset either, cloud spoils the day.

I finish my cider and walk the beach in the semi-dark. There seems to be a
lot of restaurants, but not a lot of punters. I wonder if they will come out
later. I decide to dine with the cafe thing that served me well through the
day. I decide, given the setting and having watched fishermen working hard
all day, that I would have the chef’s speciality fish of the day. It’s really
good, prawns, fish and some other stuff that I shall call “seafood” – truth is, I
have no idea. It is presented well, and very tasty. Top marks my dear
fellow. It costs me just a smidgeon over $NZ10, but it was food fit for a king.

I am enjoying the amazing lighting show in the skies, sheet and flash
lightening with the odd roll of thunder. Particularly inland, behind the
restaurant the fork lightening is spectacular. There was one time where it
looked like Zeus was firing 3-4 bolts from one side against Thor who was
replying in kind from the other... very impressive. My photography skills let
me down, I did not get any cool photos.

I decide on an early night so I’m back to the hotel by 7:30 ish and asleep
shortly thereafter.

I have thoroughly enjoyed my day. Now drugs, please do your thing and rid
me of this cough and river of snot.

Better night although I awoke a few times with a lack of nostril usage.

I decide to head down to the beach for an early morning dip before doing
some sightseeing this arvo. Check out is at midday, and my flight is at 5am
tomorrow morning.

The swim was great,- the Indian ocean provided plenty of vigorous waves to
pummel my sunburnt legs. I thought I’d be cool and wear my hat and
sunglasses. I kept hold of my hat, but somewhere in the midst of a wave I
lost my glasses. These are prescription glasses, and I remember my parting
words to the Specsavers staff who were trying to lecture me on how to look
after them just a week before I left.... “It’s not looking after them that’s the
problem, - is not losing them that is the problem”. Douh.

I’m left scratching my head what to do. Will they wash up? Will they float to
the surface?

I am joined by a bloke who I share my conundrum with and then, another

bloke and before long quite a collection of compassionate locals wanting to
help find the “medical” glasses.

One young lad jumps in and ferrets around for 20 minutes... I give him 150
rupees ($NZ1.50)... I think he’s pleased.

Then the big boys arrive... the local scuba gear business. One proudly says
he found an American lady’s glasses a few days ago... so I enter into a
contractual arrangement... $US50 if they find the glasses, and $US20 if they
look but can’t find. I figure to me they are worth $NZ150, so I think for me
it’s a good deal. I leave them to it.

I grab breakfast at the Beverly Hills hotel, pack my stuff, and check out.

I head back to the beach to see if they have had any success.

The guy claims to have just left the water, having spent the last 2 hours
looking. I don’t know if that’s true or not or whether all along they were
angling for the $US20 for doing squat diddly and if the miracle happened and
they found the glasses, then they would accept the $US50 miracle.

Anyway I sit down at a nearby cafe and order a couple of drinks and he goes
back out and does some more snorkelling. I’m not sure if it’s for show, - or
what, but he strikes out. He promises to keep looking, his boss reckons that
at low tide the water will be less dirty (from the churned up sand) and the
chances of finding them would be greater. They take my details and advise
that they will send it if they find it. [the sceptic within says they’ll buy a $5
pair and send them to me claiming they found them....] best to cut my
losses.

I catch a tuktuk into Colombo, the National Museum to be precise. The first
tuktuk claimed his meter did not work but his fixed price offer of 600 rupees
was a good one. I decline, as the meter not working story just isn’t
believable. Anyway his “boss” shows me to another tuktuk where the meter
is working and off we go. Ironically the fair is about 530 rupees, and being a
generous man I pay him 550, so 600 wasn’t far off.
The museum is quite an amazing
building, large and freshly painted
white, but the exhibitions are really
quite dull. I walk around for 20-30
minutes before I’m done. I decide
to walk to the park which is very
close to the museum... but the heat
is a killer. Just before I fry my
brain, I find a drink seller that has
ice cold water. I sit in a pergola
thing in the garden for an hour.

Once I believe I have re-hydrated enough,- I

head back into the sun, take a photo of Buddha,
and then decide to go to the old Dutch Hospital
which seems to have some food establishments
AND is the starting point for a 4pm city tour. I’m
keen to find somewhere to exchange some $US
for SL Rupees, but get walked by someone who
says he knows, a couple of miles towards
“downtown”, before a tuktuk picks me up and
takes me the rest of the way.

I exchange $US40 into approx. 5,000 rupees

which seems about right... but I’m given 2 really
old and crusty 2,000 rupee notes... of which I
am really suspicious. My mind envisages an
Indian scenario where they have been
demonetarised and so I decide to eat lunch in
this vague area and pay for it by using one of
these puppies and seeing what kind of reaction I
get.

Problem is, - there ain’t a lot of appealing options in the area. I eventually
settle on the A One cafe, which confuses me a little. I don’t understand
anything on the menu, and I sit with a couple of other blokes. There is a
word on the menu that could possibly be similar to “samosa” so I give that a
go. I get 3 (kind of) samosas. Kinda filling, kinda nice, - and they accept the
2,000 note... so maybe I don’t have to be so sceptical all the time?

I catch another tuktuk back to Dutch Hospital, this one wants 200, but I insist
on the metre, he says “ok” and we're off. In the end it only takes 70 rupees,
but I give him 100 (approx. $NZ1).

I find a place to sit, and while I’m there it starts to rain... and then the
thunder and lightning starts... it is LOUD, - I’ve never heard lightening cracks
so loud! It’s exceptionally impressive. It scares the perjeezers out of the
birds in the trees. I ask a local waiter if this is normal for Sri Lanka, - he
indicates nothing unusual here. Dang impressive I say.

I had signed up online to do a bus tour of the city at 4pm on an open top
double-decker bus. With the heavens opening at 3:30pm, I’m thinking the
likelihood of it actually happening must be minimal, but I still decide to go
and have a look. While I stand under the eaves of a building watching the
rain and the thunder and looking forlornly for the bus that I know won’t
come, I’m approached by a persistent tuktuk drier who says he can take me
around the sites for $US10 (opposed to
the $US30 that the bus would charge).

Part of me has lost the will to

continue exploring... I think I’m
done. The 5am flight cannot come
quick enough. It’s no reflection on
Sri Lanka, it’s just my energy
reserves are pretty low at the
moment. I had seen a burger king sign somewhere, so I backtracked,
ordered a kids meal and got set for a long session trying to insert some of my
iphone pictures into my diary.

Soooo... this is not the end of the adventure, - but it is the end of my active
participation in this adventure.

...well that last sentence was a bit melodramatic. I decided to catch a tuktuk
from the Dutch Hospital area and was sure enough approached for a fixed
price 2,000, later to be lowered to 1,700, but I, ever cautious of these types
of deals insisted on a meter price. I have heard claims that the meter was
broken before, so I start to walk off, however miraculously, at the last minute
a tuktuk with a working meter was discovered. I felt smug... beating them
again, I am awash with self-satisfaction.

However it is with increasing concern that the meter ticks up to 1,700 and
then over 1,700 to a point where it is 2,260! Now it is possible that the driver
took me on a zig zag to boost the meter price, - my internal compass is a bit
squeew-if, - but I don’t think he did. I recognised the road we travelled from
when I came in 2 nights ago, and we seemed to be on a straight line.

So my self-satisfied, internal smugness was wiped from my face as I handed

nearly $NZ5 more than I would have if I went with a fixed price.... I dunno.

[fyi, - the bus was only 200 rupees from the airport to Colombo town, so the
tuktuk was definitely travelling in style!]

At the airport I was generally underwhelmed with the place, - although at

least it was open with flights departing all over the place tonight. I have over
7 hours to kill before my flight time, but there looks like a barrage of
emigration X-ray machines yet to contend with.

I walk the eating options and there is a restaurant sign that leads nowhere. I
backtrack. There is another restaurant sign that leads in the opposite
direction. This time I note a sign saying that the restaurant is on level 1. I
locate the said restaurant, it’s some kind of heated servery with a variety of
tasty morsels people choose from. I ask the guy to put some stuff on the
plate and confidently stated that “I would eat it”.
For a second time in a night my bravado and self-confidence took a knock.
The spicy chicken that was hot... red oily sauce is usually hot, - but by sweet
mother of god, what the heck was in the fish curry thing? I started coughing,
- my usual coughing (a la the sore throat I’ve had for the last 3 weeks)
accompanied by the searing burning of something as it went down my
oesophagus. I felt like I was dying by coughing, but my fellow dinners
appeared to be completely oblivious to my situation. I’m not sure if it was
apathy, or whether it was a common occurrence for white men to die in the
middle of their curry, or did they not want to embarrass me by making eye
contact or enquiring as to my general “aliveness”, whatever it was, - I didn’t
even get a glance in my general direction.

I did get breathing back in one nostril, so the curry did wonders in that
regard.

So, - Sri Lanka is the only country I will be adding to my list of new countries
visited in 2016, so it is only fair that I spend my last few hours making
sweeping generalisations of the country based on my 2 days and 3 nights in
town.

Note 1, - Sri Lanka is India’s little brother, - what India struggles with, Sri
Lanka struggles with. Air pollution and dirty streets exist, although perhaps a
couple of notches better than India.

Note 2, - I think Sri Lankans smile a bit more than your average Indian. And
they are ready to engage with you in a less weird way. I think the average
grasp of English is a couple of notches better than India’s as well.

Note 3, - I think Sri Lanka’s future is a little less certain than India’s. India is
one of the world’s rising economic tigers, whereas it seems to me, Sri Lanka
is heavily reliant on tourism and there hasn’t been a lot of that in recent
times. India therefore I think has the greater economic potential.

Note 4, - Sri Lanka has a way better flag. A lion holding a sword, is pretty
cool.

Note 5, - I reckon Mt Lavinia (and I understand there are some really good
beaches down south) is on par with Goan beaches. I think nature has more
of a chance here in Sri Lanka. Nature in India is doomed to the pestilence of
mankind.

So, based on my 2 day/3 night observations, - I think Sri Lanka is something

worth exploring... but then again, - I’ve got 170 other countries still to go!.
OK, picking it up again...

I had been worried about my re-entry back into India. I only had a “single
entry visa” which technically I had used once already, so I wasn’t sure what
was going to happen when I tried to get back into India. My fears increased
when I was queried at the Jet Airways check-in at Colombo and then again by
a different hostess upon entering the gate. Their disapproving comments and
body language implied I may not be granted access, which got my brain
ticking about perhaps I will have to live out my days in Sri Lanka.

My time at Colombo airport was not overly comfortable. A wait of 10 hours

was enough to drive anyone insane, so it was a relief to get on the plane and
airborne. It is possible I slept for 20 minutes on the trip... the sum total of
my sleep that night.

I also felt like a leper. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and looked like a
slob. My legs were bright red. People would stare at my legs... I mean
c’mon people... give my legs some privacy.... they are red, get over it...

When we land in Mumbai I take an opportunity to smarten myself up a bit

before trying immigration. I put on my cargo pants.

I think I’m the last person from our flight in the queue. I mask my
nervousness with politeness... it’s never let me down before... and I’m
through. Not even a consideration... or perhaps he didn’t even notice? I
dunno... I’m through Indian customs and now all I need to do is link up with
Adam and co.

I find where their domestic flight comes out and wait... and wait. The board
says they’ve landed, but they don’t emerge. I find the left luggage and it is
bare, so I know I didn’t miss them... I send Anita a txt, but I don’t know
whether it will get through or not, - my phone is a bit of a mystery to me.

I get to the point where I convince myself I’ve missed them and start making
alternate plans in my head. There is a transit
hotel near the left luggage room, and just as I
decide to head off there, my phone rings and
it’s Anita... they are just coming out now. It
seemed to take them over an hour from when
they “landed” to when they emerged.

Anyway, - I’m still keen to relax rather than

explore... I value sleep more than adventure
at the moment. I think the others are keen as
well, so we all head over to the transit hotel
for a 7 hour deal. Oh the bliss... the bed...
the shower... it was soooooo good, my 5 ½ hour sleep was rudely awaken by
Pat Benetar “All Fired Up” on my iphone (my alarm). I could’ve done with
another 3-5 hours, - but I feel much better, - and it’s great to have access to
better clothes.

Singapore…..

Home….
Singapore
Signs