Varkala
Guess Who?
“GIRLS, GIRLS, YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO I JUST SAW DRIVING A TUK TUK?!”
Kirsty dramatically launched herself through the door and onto her bed. She was wearing her new £1.50 India pants with a hole in the crotch (this is a common faux pas with India pants). She was out of breath, clearly excited. Naturally we couldn’t guess who she had just seen driving a tuk tuk.

“SNOOP DOGG!!!!!!”
Complete silence as we just stared at her open mouthed. And then collapsed in a heap of giggles.

Come on Kirsty, I mean, what are the chances that Snoop Dogg is actually roaming around India, more specifically Varkala in a tuk tuk. Pretty slim I’d say. Next you’ll be telling us he was handing out chai and selling postcards of the Taj.
*Please note, however, that I am no expert on the hobbies of Snoop Dogg or his whereabouts at this current time.

The Crew aka Two Small Mancunians, an Arab and a Kiwi Cripple
So, I’ve already explained in the previous blog how we bonded with Aliesha the Kiwi and Kirsty the northern Arab, over a fart, no need to go into that again. And these girls provided us with hours of entertainment. Kirsty the northern Arab (from Burnley but lived in Dubai for 5 years) spent hours telling us about her amazing blog (yet to be published) that she’s writing that will actually ‘blow your mind’. I do not doubt it. Especially if it features the likes of Snoop Dogg and his tuk tuk. Meanwhile Aliesha the kiwi was stranded on her bed with her broken foot.

The Next Drama
Lyvette ran out of the bathroom like she had a rocket up her backside; “There’s a MASSIVE cockroach in there. And it flies!” And we all know that Lyvette DOES NOT appreciate a flying thing.
Aleisha: “Just hit it with your thong!” Sorry, what?
Did she expect Lyvette to just start attacking said cockroach with her knickers? And why? Could she not use a rolled up newspaper? And more to the point was she supposed to take all of her clothes off to get to this thong that Aliesha was clearly assuming Lyvette was wearing? What if she were wearing granny knickers, wouldn’t they be more effective in attacking said cockroach? Larger surface area and all that? All of these thoughts ran through my head. As myself, Lyvette and Kirsty the Arab looked at Aliesha in wonder. And then we remembered that she was kiwi and lived in Australia, so by thong she meant flip flop. Naturally by this time the killer cockroach had stealthily scurried back to its lair unaffected by the thought of being sentenced to death with a thong.

The Squatter
The conversation then turned to the Indian squatter toilets (common in most of Asia), basically a hole in the floor. They take a bit of getting used to but once you adopt the correct technique can be pretty effective. Some, however are completely rank. Especially the ones on the overnight trains when people have been using them all day and night, you try not to think about what you may be standing in. Strangely enough Aliesha bloody loved the squatters on the trains (she clearly has issues). We discussed this in great detail, especially how to poo (same technique as weeing really).

Aliesha: “I love them, but the one thing I’m yet to understand is how people poo with their clothes on”. Another stunned silence.
“Erm…what do you mean? You just pull your pants down.”
“Really?! I take all of my clothes off.” And yes she meant all of them.
“But why?!!!! And where do you put them, the toilets are vile.”
I never thought I’d hear the day when a westerner actually hopped over a squatter and took ALL of their clothes off to go to the toilet. There was a lot of laughter in the dorm that night. The laughter was interrupted by Aliesha, after pondering how to poo whilst keeping her clothes on as she sat bolt upright:
“Guys, I’ve got an ant in my beard!!!” Beard? And then, I kid you not, she sat with her head between her legs picking an ant from what appeared to be her nether regions . It was too much for me, I cracked. I swear I actually tore my vocal cords and my stomach hurt that much from laughing that I actually developed an ab.
“Maybe you need to sort that beard out Aliesha…”
“BED!!! I HAVE AN ANT IN MY BED!!!!” Ahhhh, now it makes sense. Speak properly girl.

That Omlette Though
Finally we all calmed down, Kirsty still reliving the moment she saw Snoop Dogg, Lyvette selecting the appropriate weapon of choice from her underwear draw and myself wondering if my newly developed ab was a keeper. Just as we were drifting off the silence was broken…

Lyvette: “Guys, I just don’t feel great. I mean…I don’t feel like I’m going to die, I just don’t feel like I’m going to live.” Wow, what a statement.
Aliesha responded, very sympathetically, “I just can’t get to sleep. I’m too excited about my omelette in the morning.” This must be a cracking omelette.
Kirsty: “I just can’t believe I saw Snoop Dogg.” YOU DIDN’T!!!

So up we woke, excited to witness Aliesha’s omelette that had actually deprived her of sleep.
I can honestly say…it was just an omelette. A plain one. With some bread. We looked at her in amazement as she smacked her lips in delight at the shit omelette. Lyvette just couldn’t fathom it, “seriously, it looks crap!”
Aliesha: “Mmm, it’s amazing. It must be the combination of the bread and the butter.”
Yeah that unique combination of bread and butter, it’s a specialist combo that is.
WTF do you eat in New Zealand?! It did make us wonder.

Travellers Issues
And that was Varkala in a nutshell. Our time there ended with the girls walking into the room to find me rummaging through the bin retrieving the clothes Kirsty that had just chucked (I need clothes desperately fyi). I absolutely did not take the £1.50 India pants with a hole in the crotch, that was too far.

Munroe Island
We left Varkala along with Kirsty the Arab and headed to Munroe Island to see the backwaters of Kerala. We had to ditch Aliesha the Kiwi because she was crippled. But at least she had a good omelette to tuck into every morning and she could practice pooing with her clothes on.

The island was beautiful, the backwaters tour was great and we learnt that cinnamon comes from the bark of a tree, pineapples can start off red and some trees bleed rubber (I’ve seen it with my own eye balls). We had amazing food from our homestay mother, a dodgy experience with a levitating man outside the window and some hammock naps. Kirsty also had a dream about being a Hindi god with lots of arms, looking for Starbucks. For starters do Hindi gods have lots of arms? If so, how many? And do they drink Starbucks? And if they do, how many drinks do they buy…one or numerous for each of their arms? Naturally we had to Google ‘how many arms to Hindi gods have?’ and ‘do Hindi gods drink Starbucks?’ We still don’t know the answer.

Maybe we should ask Snoop Dogg next time we see him driving his tuk tuk…

Allepey
LOTS of mosquitoes, another backwaters tour and not much else. We had to say goodbye to our new favourite Arab and it was back to just the two small mancunians.

Kumily
Now I rarely fear for my life, but this bus journey was something else. This bus driver acted like he was driving a tuk tuk in Delhi. He took over the entire road, definitely didn’t adhere to road signs and had no qualms in driving others off the edge of the cliff. To make matters worse we were going up switch backs into the mountains. Numerous cars had to wheel skid to a halt but our driver was not deterred. We spent most of the journey on two wheels and I actually nearly fell out of the open window. The climax of the adventure was when the man in front of me nearly got decapitated by a road sign that the driver had just ignored and decided to hit, hence it came in through the window. I actually gasped. The man in front rubbed his head as if this were a daily occurrence. Noone else flinched. And the driver gave no shits whatsoever.

Kumily was nice. We had a massive room and Lyvette got ants in her knickers. Imagine the frustration of any killer cockroaches in that bathroom – being slapped to death with an ant infested thong. Aliesha would have been delighted.

Munnar
So what happened is we went on a beautiful trek around the tea plantations. Munnar is in the mountains and one of the coldest places we have been, but we still wore Nivea factor 50 sun cream as it got hot in the mountains. I reapplied every 45mins like the good girl that I am. We watched the ladies picking tea leaves and then I casually ate some rice off a woman’s fingers (as you do) and on we continued (I was secretly hoping she’d managed to sanitise her hands whilst she was on her tea picking break).

We couldn’t understand it. We returned to our hotel, showered and looked in the mirror. I looked like I’d rubbed my face on the sun. Actually, scrap that. My face was so burnt it had bypassed red and gone straight to purple. The skin on my nose was shedding itself every 20 seconds. I went to show Lyvette but I couldn’t find her. Instead I found a Lyvette shaped figure sat on the bed, but her head had been replaced with a tomato. The tomato looked up.
“What the hell has happened to us?!! We wore FACTOR 50 NIVEA, in the coldest place we have been AND REAPPLIED REGULARLY.” Now one thing about the two of us is that we’re very good with sun cream, we hate burning and neither of us have properly burnt in our 19 months of travelling. But this was ridiculous. Then we examined the Nivea. It offered ‘meximum protection’ and contained ‘valvable moisurizign elements.’ And what we learnt is that you should never buy ‘Nivea’ sun cream from shops in Goa unless it’s a recognised pharmacy. Because it’s probably water mixed with oil and you will fry like a chip. Google told us there are reports of fake Nivea in Goa. My purple face and the tomato are inclined to agree.

Marari
Armed with red faces we ventured to Marari beach village and stayed in a great homestay, where the family well and truly looked after us. They were great. Although we felt a bit awkward when the owner insisted of taking photographs of us feeding Christmas cake to his daughter, and then shoving it in her face. Lyvette also walked into a man stroking his penis on the beach.

Kotchi
Tripping 1
We boarded the bus in Marari, and it was a bumpy affair, nothing unusual there. And then, I’m not sure how but we went over a particularly brutal bump and the next thing I know Lyvette is flying off her seat and onto the floor, with her backpack still attached. She looked like a beetle stuck on its back with her arms and legs wafting wildly. She landed at the feet of a group of Indian men who very helpfully scooped her up, trying very hard to keep their faces straight. I was no use because I was blinded by tears. The whole bus giggled into their hankies. The man opposite almost lost control as he silently wept into his hand whilst casting sideways glances at Lyvette who was now holding on for dear life.

Tripping 2
We had to change buses. The second bus was very full and we had to stand. I was stood looking out of the open door. The bus jolted and I lost my balance, falling forward. I may have made a noise that suggested a moment of panic. In that split second I swear the bus was going at 90 miles an hour and my face was inches from the gravel. I actually saw the ants on the road. My body fell forwards, out of the open door and I grabbed at absolutely nothing in an attempt to stay on board. Luckily the ticket conductor and a handful of women all grabbed my backpack simultaneously and my feet felt the solid ground of the bus. They then threw me away from the door. I was saved and my heart rate had reached new limits.

We’re going to avoid buses for a while.

Mad Friday
It’s a tradition in Manchester, the Friday before Xmas. So we went for beer in santa hats. We don’t drink much in India, but this had to be done. We then returned back to our hostel to meet Marco the Italian at 11pm putting on leggings, joggers, hat, scarf and a neckerchief. It was about 30 degrees outside.
“Marco, where are you going at this time?”
“To bed.”Huh?
But this wasn’t a joke and Marco did indeed go to bed, dressed for the Arctic. I have never met anyone who actually got dressed to go to bed and then undressed the next day to go out. The AC wasn’t that cold. But apparently Marco thought otherwise.

Merry Christmas
Christmas day was a tad different this year, it consisted of a tour of Kotchi, with us entertaining goats in santa hats and ending in our favourite beer bar. Great day, curry for tea, santa hats permanently attached to heads even in blistering heat. What more could we want?

And that was Kotchi. In fact, that was Kerala complete. Done. Voila.

The Attack of the Taxi
We woke after an hours sleep to head to the airport, leaving the hostel at 3am, eyes barely open. And then something jumped on me. We couldn’t really see what it was as we sat in the back of the taxi but it definitely jumped. Then it jumped onto Lyvette. Did we have fleas? She screamed. The taxi driver stopped, panicked by the sudden kerfuffle in the back seats by two half dead white girls carrying santa hats. We tried to explain something was jumping, all was fine and he could continue the journey to the airport, however he clearly felt he needed to do something about the situation and so started slapping the seats of the car in a dramatic fashion. This did absolutely nothing except provide entertainment for us. We continued the journey. The thing jumped again. Lyvette screamed again. The taxi driver had a heart attack, again. Lyvette removed her thong and started slapping the jumping thing which was actually a cricket. Just kidding she didn’t really. But when it landed on her leg she did start slapping herself with her phone (the reason to why is still unknown). The taxi driver stopped again and began the process of seat slapping. Again the cricket (now safely hidden) gave no shits whatsoever. And we began to giggle. And so this cycle continued the whole journey to the airport, at 3am in the morning with us screaming and slapping ourselves and the taxi driver punching the lights out of his seats.

Next stop, North…
And this is where we said goodbye to the south of India. We’re heading to Jaipur now for New Year and then venturing north after that which will be the first time I will have experienced winter in 19 months. Naturally I have no appropriate clothing but we’ll worry about that later. Kirsty, the selfish bitch did not leave me any warm clothes in the bin.

And this is where we say goodbye to Kerala where Snoop Dogg owns the streets in his tuk tuk and Aliesha the Kiwi is desperately trying to poo with her clothes on. Kirsty is searching for Hindi gods with numerous sets of arms and Lyvette has just boarded the plane with an extra thong in her pocket in case we encounter any killer cockroaches en route to the north…