The Arthritic Hippy Trail

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IN November 2008, my wife Fi and I sat on the edge of the thinnest mattress in the city of Chennai and laid out the pros and cons for continuing our budget backpacking roaming in India.

Cons first:

1: Terrorism attack in Mumbai, and consequent state of emergency throughout the country;
2: Real danger of nuclear war with Pakistan;
3: ATMs refusing to give us any cash;
4: Cyclone in Tamil Nadu, flooding all of Chennai and surrounding countryside;
5: Warnings not to wade through floodwater because of diseases carried by infected rat pee;
6: Hindu rioting against Christians threatening to spread;
7: Realisation that after many backpacking trips, maybe we are getting too old for it.

Then the pros:

1: Erm……

Marooned in that hotel in the capital of the southern state of Tamil Nadu, we had to try hard to find a reason for going on. The rain teemed down from a low, leaden sky, inundating the whole city and thousands of square miles of surrounding countryside. Nowhere to go, nothing to do but to stare transfixed at the minute by minute TV horror show unfolding in Mumbai.

Some Western governments were advising people not to travel to India. Those already there were considering early flights home. We decided to stay. Because, well, because India is India. The skies cleared, the people of Mumbai began to fight back - against their corrupt politicians as well as the terrorists - and, within a few days, we were back to normal…sitting on another thin mattress in another town, swallowing diarrhoea control tablets, and contemplating the prospect of another 16 hours ride in a bone-shaking bus.

It could be argued that we’re far too old for this sort of thing. Backpacking, particularly budget backpacking is surely for the kids, not for a couple whose combined age is close to 120, one pale and bald, the other pale and red-headed, both of whom attract chuckles and pointed fingers from the locals. But we keep going back for more punishment. Why? I don’t know, to be honest. My brother reckons that we are obsessed. Or possibly that we are desperately (and rather ridiculously) trying to make up for having missed out on the Hippy Trail of the late 1960s early 1970s.

What I do know is that our travels in India have coincided with what we believe to be positive changes in our lifestyle and attitudes. And, while we were always happy and hopeful, now we are more optimistic than ever before. India, I believe, has seeped into our soul. I also discovered that it had already seeped into my blood, and that whenever we land in India I feel at home.

But why put up with all the pain and hassle of country buses, second class train compartments, and cheap lodgings? Why not do it in a bit more style? Surely at our age, with creaking and prematurely arthritic limbs, we need some comforts? Maybe, but we can’t afford it, simple as that. And, anyway, it’s a lot more fun, doing it our way. Limp along with us on the Arthritic Hippy Trail.

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