Kochi to Goa. Theme tune: 'Walking on Broken Glass'.

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My last night in Kochi was spent having dinner with some of my room mates: Miriam from Canada, and Sophie and George from London. After wandering around dark streets looking (unsuccessfully) for a Lonely Planet recommended restaurant that Miriam wanted to try, we settled upon a small restaurant that I can't remember the name of. When we arrived, the electricity was down, but the woman serving us was so polite, friendly and welcoming that we were happy to wait.

It was worth it. They were out of palak paneer, so I opted for an alternative. I can't remember the name of it, but it ended in 'paneer' and contained mushrooms. In any case, it was lovely, as was my company. We exchanged travel stories and the London girls made me glad that I decided not to visit Delhi on this occasion. On the way back, we were howled at by dickheads on a motorbike. Nice.

Since I'd already been suffering from a dicky tummy, the dinner did not sit well with me and I made a mental note not to eat in the morning, prior to my bus ride.

As a little side note, I seriously do not recommend Vedanta Wake Up hostel. The staff were polite enough, but not especially helpful. On more than one occasion, we had no water, and when we did, it was cold. The electricity died numerous times, the wifi signal was poor (when working at all) and there were no locks of the dorm doors. I would definitely not stay there again.

My taxi driver arrived a little late the next morning to take me to the pick-up point, but he got me there with time to spare for the 1pm bus. I used the most disgusting toilet I've seen to date: an unlit, grotty squat that clearly hasn't been cleaned since time began, and with a window so low (and uncovered) that it could be peeped in by an umpah-lumpah. The phrase 'roughing it' doesn't come close.

After what seemed like an important discussion between the Paulo Travel staff and fellow passengers waiting to embark, it was revealed to me that we must travel to another destination in order to catch the bus, and as such, we were bundled into a seven seater car. The man sitting next to me handed me his news paper and I tortured myself with unsavoury stories of events happening around India. I attempted to lighten the reading matter with the political articles, but to no avail. Fun times.

Eventually, we arrived at our new pick-up point; a mechanics' garage close to Cochin airport. We stood in the heat for about an hour and a half, awaiting the bus. I got chatting to a few of the other passengers, and was surprised to hear that smoking on the street is illegal. You really do learn a new thing every day.

After an hour or so, I considered hailing an auto and going to the airport in hope of a flight. Eventually, however, the bus arrived. There was a lot of confusion as to whether this was our bus or not, but eventually, we boarded. Already hot, sweaty and tired, we were all pretty pissed off to hear that we had to pay another 30 Rupees for the Goa entry tax. I couldn't be arsed to argue, so I just paid up.

Now, given my stomach situation, I came armed with water, crackers and cashew nuts, not wanting to make myself sick from lack of food, but not wanting to overdo it, either. We stopped a couple of times, and I ended up buying a chocolate bar, just to keep the ol' sugar levels up.

Luckily, there were numerous toilet stops, including one where a woman thought it was acceptable to push in front of me (with about ten women behind me). Of course, I told her about herself. The most dramatic toilet stop, however, occurred at 2 o'clock in the morning.

I was dozing, when the bus stopped and loads of women piled out. I looked around, wondering where the hell they were going, since we were parked in the middle of nowhere, with no lights bar those of the bus we were seated on. Then the woman next to me asked if I needed to pee, which I did, so she suggested we go together. We were quickly joined by a woman from the other side of the aisle. When we got outside, I asked where the toilets were and my seat-neighbour informed me that this is a "true Indian-style toilet stop", so we walked behind a small wall on the other side of the road. Catching her drift, I started to unbutton and find a spot to squat when I heard a loud smashing sound and felt a crunch beneath my foot. That's right, folks. I stood on a bottle. At least, that's what I assumed it to be, since I couldn't actually see anything. Lifting my foot and putting my hand down to it, I realised that the now-broken bottle was embedded in the sole of my flip-flop, going straight through to my foot. That's when I started shouting expletives. The pain hadn't kicked in yet, but it doesn't take a genius to know that glass sticking out of your foot isn't a good sign. With some struggle, I tugged the glass out, and proceeded to fulfil the purpose of our little trip. When I'd finished, I put my hand to my foot and, feeling it wet and knowing my aim whilst squatting isn't that bad, knew I was bleeding. I hobbled back to the bus, where in the headlights' beams, I could see I'd left a trail of blood behind. Cursing myself for being stupid enough to disembark on a deserted road in the wee hours of the morning, I washed my foot with a bottle of water handed to me by my seat-neighbour. Once I'd washed away the blood, I realised that the injury wasn't as bad as it seemed; just two small cuts, in fact. I got on the bus, dug out my mini first aid kit (God bless Laura for such a thoughtful birthday present!) and cleaned my foot using alcohol wipes. Since it was 2am, I could only do a half-hearted job by torch-light (again, aided by my seat-neighbour), so I checked for any remaining shards of glass, blobbed on some antiseptic cream, and covered the worst cut with a plaster. The other one wasn't bad enough to concern myself with. I made a mental note to find a doctor in Goa and get a tetanus shot, and returned to my iPod, feeling pretty pissed off at having damaged my new (authentic) Havianas flip-flops. Although, had I been wearing anything else, the damage to my foot may have been greater, so for that, I must be grateful.

I didn't sleep for the remainder of the journey, which was another ten hours. The pain in my foot got progressively worse, and I found myself getting irritated by the little girl behind me who kept crying and kicking my chair.

Being at the front of the bus, I had no chair in front of me with which I could steady myself as the bus bumped and jolted over the poorly-laid roads. Additionally, throughout the entire journey, I kept sliding forward in my seat with the driver's erratic over-use of the break. Add that to his excessive use of the high-pitched horn, and you might be half-way to understanding what a dreadful bus ride it was.

Arriving at Panjim in Goa at around 11am, I couldn't get off the bus quick enough. I hadn't showered since 10am on Thursday so I was grimy, smelly, messy-haired and covered in specks of dried blood. Sexy, huh?

I hopped in an over-priced taxi to the Evershine Guest House in Anjuna, and was greeted by the manager, Sebastiana, who offered me a seat and a welcome drink before showing me to my private room. I immediately jumped in the shower and washed away the grime of the past 24 hours. Prior to this, however, Sebastiana introduced me to a girl named Ebony, who had recently stood on a nail, and also needed to see a doctor, so we agreed to go together.

After my shower, Ebony and I set out to the local hospital. The 'casualty' department was a small room with two beds, so after waiting for a short time whilst a poorly little girl cried inside, we both hobbled in. The treatment was laughable by western standards. My foot was prodded at for a few seconds and then I was given the tetanus shot I'd requested. Ebony's foot was bandaged up after being painfully prodded at, and she was sent on her way with a prescription for antibiotics, despite having possible tendon damage, judging by the pain in her leg and foot.

We stopped at the restaurant next to our hostel and I had my first western meal in India: a veggie fry-up. Munch! Much needed after about 36hrs with only nuts, crackers and chocolate.

Now, I'm just chilling outside my room. Tonight, a group of us are heading for dinner and to the night market. This guest house has a very chilled and social vibe. Even the frogs (which I'm yet to see) like hanging out in the communal bathroom! Caters to all crowds, does Evershine.

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