We left Kalkata and jumped on our 28hour train in sleeper class… on the way out of our hotel, some of the boys laughed and asked us for buckshish (bribe money) for no reason what so ever, haha so funny.

The train journey was not as painful as we expected, which was hilarious considering what I have to say bellow. The guys we where sitting with where okay and gave us no issues, but at 3am the train stopped at station and let on some more people. The guys who came into our carriage kindly turned on all the light then went about arguing over bed numbers; after 15 or so minutes of that shit they all sat down and ate dinner… lovely… 3AM!. In the morning one of them put a needle drip in his arm and they all had pills… lovely. Those same guys in the morning started disappearing and reappearing as semi-naked holy men, with paint on their faces. They all took turns using their single poo-bucket, to take a “shower” in the squat toilet. Oh yes I just remembered there was an incident as usual when we got on the train: some guy was going mental at me in Hindi and grabbing at my arm aggressively; after a while of me not moving and this guy getting more aggressive, a guy who spoke Eng came along; he said I was in his seat, I pointed at the seat numbers on the wall and all of a sudden he is sorry, so I guess it is all okay then lalalala. There where random bed numbers on the walls and some kid with a screw driver had obviously been having fun, but this guy was so incensed that a gora (white boy) had stolen his seat instead of the other way around, that obviously his anger blinded him. The ticket inspector tried to screw us out of our six foot beds and put us in five foot beds; he was obviously paid buckshish (bribe money) by someone to move the gullible gora, who would no doubt be polite and get shafted in the asshole as usual, but we did not budge. Eventually the problem magically went away as fast as it was summoned into existence by the conductor, when I stood up, squared off at him, and explained how tall I am.

We got into the station at 5am but waited around for two hours for the hotels to open. I had a wonder around the area while Tom waited and I found every hotel to be full. A PR came up to me and I did not “ney, chello” (no, go away) him as I was desperate. He took me down a side street to a shit pit we now call home. It has giant cockroaches.

Our room has a spy window! Seriously no shit. There is a black window with a room behind it, there is also an anomalous space behind our bathroom. We covered the window and tried to take pics of the inside but it can only be seen with the naked eye. The inside is tiled, no doubt so it can be easily wiped down after watching the gora in action. It might be another one of those oversights typical of India, but the only purpose of a tiled room behind a darkened sheet of glass I can think of is for spying. Unsolved Mysteries update! (Insert theme tune) it is next doors shower, so I am right in the fact it can be used for spying and it was obviously an oversight (no we did not watch anyone in the shower, you can clearly hear it).

We have not spent enough time in Chennai to make any sort of judgement about it, but the people are nice. The rickshaw drivers are nearly as bad as those in Jaipor, in that they try and shaft you hard for money, and they must have a rickshaw monopoly like OPEC has with oil, as they all stand firm and do not budge on their inflated prices. There is very little to do here though. We went to “The Kirk”, which is a sexed up way to advertise the local church: it was pretty cool, they had starry night decorations on the inside of it’s dome. That is as interesting as it got really, except: we went to an Indian cinema! So awesome! We totally watched a film there! An America film! YAY. They don’t show any native films with English subtitles, so we could never watch a film anywhere in India, but luckily they have an Eng cinema here (The first we have found). They have a fort here as well (ooh so exciting): we did not go.

Tom suggested we do some laundry before we leave, I suggested we do not; they never get it right and guess what: it went wrong. He agreed to have our laundry done by 7pm and we turned up at 10:00pm to collect it: it was not done. He said he would send it to our hotel in 30mins, and 45 minutes later we went back and it still was not ready. He said tomorrow morning and we informed him we are leaving, so we stood there and waited until 23:30. When Tom gave the laundry to him, the guy marked the inside of one of his shirt collars with Biro, which as you would expect pissed Tom off; he assured Tom it would be fine and being a professional Tom took his word… when he gave us the cloths it still had biro on it. Suddenly he could not speak English when Tom asked him to fix it. He began to understand again when Tom suggested he get the Police. After some haggling and a severe talking down from Tom, he agreed to have it fixed for 9am. I really felt sorry for the guy as he looked tired and upset, but he fucked up Tom’s shirt assuring him that “Biro is always coming out”, only to expect him to accept his little fuck up with the line “biro mark is an Indian stain” hahaha, just like when we had our silk pillow cases made and we where told “dirt is free” hahaha, I love Indian humour so much. We turned up at 9:00 to pick up Tom’s shirt and they said 10:30! Tom went insane and we stood there for 45 minutes, with Tom shouting at him to fix it all the time. I think they never intended to fix it, and expected us to leave. Tom took the guys photo and threatened him with the Police. After 40 minutes of this guy ignoring us he summoned a guy who fixed the problem in a couple of minutes…

We are flying out to Singapore tomorrow, and it looks to be very expensive there. There is a terrorist threat to Chenai airport, which we will be using…I am sure everything will be fine. Everything was fine: the security at the airport was very tight, with heavily armed guys in sandbag-pill-boxes everywhere. We had to go through so many layers of security you would not believe.

We almost missed our flight as the only information that was communicated to us was a final call, followed by two dudes running around looking for us. The airport security made me feel much safer, but I lost my swiss army knife before we left, and guess what I was carrying in hand luggage all that time by mistake? The searches where pretty pathetic I have to say, but that is probably because of our nationality and the fact we don’t fit the “profile” which is fairly retarded.


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