Sandal slut

Georgaphy has never been my strong point, and I fear this post may be rather rambled and more than rather irritable. I seem to have spent the past few days either shitting, throwing up from train doorways (you need to watch the wind direction) and negotiating where exactly in this goddam country I am and where I want to go to! For some reason I thought, in my infinite wisdom, that returning to Aurangubad would make sense, in order to get the train to Delhi. Making decisions with ameobas and god knows what else floating around my small intestine is probably misguided to begin with, but it turns out that I needed to head back to Mumbai, and I managed to get on the wrong train anyway! This has happened before, so now I'm back in ... read more

So I find myself in yet another streetside internet cafe, with a dodgy keyboard; this time in Aurangubad, which is true to its Lonely Planet description of tatty. Unfortunately the dodgy keyboard is matched by an increasingly dodgy stomach. Nothing exciting happened with the luschious lad from New Jersey whose crotch so caught my attention in Ellora. I tried my best to put a spell on him, pretending I didn't understand how to work hotmail, dropping my pen at his feet (in the hope he would lean to pick it up, meet my eyes, and be unable to resist) ... I even tried to make conversation by asking if he visited often. I guess that may have been my downfall as Ellora rarely features twice on the RTWtrip. I finally gave up, paid my 20rupees, and ... read more

When I last wrote I was recovering from a night of sorrowful passion (no connection to the chaplet of Divine Mercy ... apologies St Faustina...) and about to leave Mumbai. It's my least favourite city in India, although the whole Bollywood scene does rather fascinate me, and Amitabh Baachan is decidedly sexy. I have some friends there, so it's nice to catch up every now and then, but I never stay long enough to feel sad upon departure. Mumbai was my very first port of call in India, and I always remember looking with awe from the taxi window as we wound our way from the Shiva-whatever-a-ji airport to Colaba. There were cows and dogs, and huddles of people asleep on the pavement. In my naive, post-A level state, I asked who owned these animals, and ... read more

Why is India so noisy? I'm sipping chai in a very refined tea shop, looking out across the Gateway to India, thinking what an enchanting yet disconcerting place it is. There are obviously (I say obviously, as I'm yet to find solitude in the subcontinent) lots of people milling around, some walking quickly, others just sitting on the pavement watching the world go by. I suppose that's what us travel-bloggers are doing, reflecting, soaking in the scenery and writing about it. I won't go into details concerning who I am or why I'm here, because this blog will more than likely contain graphic details of my sex life, which may make uncomfortable reading for the old parents sitting at home perusing the Daily Mail and petting the labrador. Suffice to say I'm an English girl, mid ... read more