At The Zoo...all the animals are crying

Sunday 19th June 2005 3:09pm

Dear everyone,

First I’d like to I say how worried I am about you all. I heard via the internets that it's really, really hot in England and that the MET Office is worried for the well being of the average Joe Englishman. Isn’t it like, nearly 25 degrees or something there? How the hell are you all managing? Are old people dropping in the streets? Is the wide spread looting of air conditioner suppliers and ice cream vans being tipped in the streets by roaming gangs of ten year olds? How can a country cope in such sweltering heat???

Here in Delhi the summer is drawing to a close. So as you can imagine the real heat is over, and it's just...well I s'pose you could call it an "Indian Indian summer" yeah? It was "only" 44 degrees yesterday, but luckily the temperature dropped to a chilly 42 last night. The week before we arrived the temperature was as high as 47. I think that the meteorological term for that is "Shit Hot". It’s also really dry and dusty as well as we’re fairly close to a desert, and so for the first time in months I'm not wet with my own salty body juice all the time. We had a mouse in our room (which I'll come back to later) and the bread we used for bate dried up to a biscuit in about 15 minutes. It would amaze me but I’m incapable of complex thoughts since my brain is a shriveled bag of sun-dried proteins and what’s left of my electrolytes. My scrotum resembles a sun-dried apricot and my mouth is drier than a post-menopausal nun for most of the day and I’m drinking more than Judy Finnegan.

So we left moist-Mumbai on Friday, after a few days of weirdness. Basically, Mumbai is like London, but with more Indians (but it is a close run thing...), older busses and about 15 degrees warmer. Apart from that though it's uncanny. The buildings are all Victorian stile london-esque mansions, the busses are read and of the double decked variety. Even the post boxes are old red royal mail style ones and the ordered grid layout of Goa is but a memory of logic, a faint shadow of effective town planning. It’s like they want to be us or something; I’m like “hello, has anyone else noticed that they’ve totally ripped us off here? We demand royalties!”.

Mumbai was good, and fairly eventful considering we were only there four days. we went to the pet market (really disgustingly filthy. I was shocked...I thought only the people lived in shitty conditions), the zoo (like the pet market, except not for sale and with some very bored and confused looking African lions). I got all excited like a five year old about seeing some big animals; before I remembered how inconsiderate animals can be...they all just lay there doing nothing, even when I threw stones at them. That’s obviously a joke, but I was inspired to write that after seeing a kid on a school trip actually do this, right in front of his teacher, who did nothing. I was pretty angry so I told the little fuck that Tigers can read phone directories and a pretty good at Googling small boys’ addresses.

After the Zoo, and once I’d stopped crying about the depressing site of an emaciated and bored looking tiger, we went to the general market (rubbish...which is ironic because I think that's all they sold) and the Dhobie Ghats where all the washermen wash all of Mumbai’s skiddied underwear in 5000 basins. 10 000 (TEN THOUSAND!) people work there, which is more than the working population of Liverpool, washing a metric shit load of clothes. They start at 4:30 in the morning and work right through 'till sunset. We managed to arrange an illegal tour with the government foreman who ran the whole soapy operation. It was really interesting and I took a few cool pictures.

It's amazing how easy it is to bribe people out here. it only cost us 50 Rps to bribe an actual government dude. That’s 62.5 pence (that's quick math) to get this guy to risk his job and stick it to The Man, even though he kinda was The Man. it would only have been like 150 Rp fine if we were busted though so it doesn't matter really. Bling Bling!

We also managed to hit a few bars in Mumbai (well, three) which were quite good. Three litre pitchers are about 3 or 4 pounds, which is nice. The weird thing about Mumbai is that there are loads of men on the street who try to take you to see some guy called Charlie. They come up to you and say "do you wan' see Charlie? dye wan' Charlie brother". I tried to explain to one of them that I didn't know who Charlie was, but Ben recons the guy was selling Charlie. I wasn't sure if Charlie was a rent boy or some kind of man slave, but it seemed stupid to buy him as it’d just be another mouth to feed, so I said "Ben, lets run away" and that's what we did.

there was this other guy who was trying to sell us weed, which we didn't want either, having already shoveled the best part of a kilo of coke up our arses (it absorbs it better...) so we just pretended and we asked him how much. He said 500 RP, so we were like “er, 10 Rp?”. He countered with 400Rp, so we said “er, 10Rp?” (this is how you barter in India...or how we do any way). Eventually we got this guy down to 15 RP which we found really funny and totally ridiculous. Especially when he'd been jogging to keep up with us for about a km before we told him we didn't want anything, even if he was willing to pay us for it. That’s right, we’re so extreme that we get our kicks from winding drug dealers up.

It worries me how many drug related anecdotes I have from Mumbai. There’s a lot of everything knocking about there.

So we left Mumbai by train, first class, which was more than sweet. There were people waiting hand and foot on us, and they brought us free orange juice, chocolates, tea and coffee. They even helped me with my cross word, which was useful because the clues were in broken English and made no sense, as well as having little bearing on the actual answer. And no, it’s not because I’m just crap at crosswords.

So finally, the mouse...

There was a tiny (and I mean TINY) little baby mouse in our room at the hotel, and 6ft 5 Ben nearly shat the bed. I swear to god, I’ve never seen anyone so terrified of a mouse. I told him they like to climb into bed with people and bite their toes and that they like to lay their eggs in peoples urethras and for the rest of the night he was really paranoid. It nearly killed me. then when the mouse trap finally went off he wouldn't get out of bed to turn the light on or anything, and got really angry when I brought it over to show him and did the old "woops...nearly lost it there" gag. definitely a highlight of India.

hope you're all well

Goa, Goa, Gone

Wednesday 15th June 2005, 8:07am

Ok, so now...I'm in The City Formerly Known as Bombay, home of The Bombay Bad-Boy Pot Noodle, Bombay Mix, Bombay Sapphire Gin and I think they make a few films here too. Incidentally, out here those pot noodles are just called Bad Boys, and Bombay Mix is just "mix". It’s totally CRAZY! Oh, and also Bombay is called Mumbai…apparently they didn’t like our name much, so they changed it very, very slightly.

“Yeah! How d’you like dem apples England? You imperialist bastards! And we’ll call India…er…Mindier? Yeah! Mumbai, capital of Mindier! YEAH!”

We left Goa on Monday after a pretty crappy week and a half if I’m honest. Ben is a really boring old man sometimes and was far happier to go to bed early so that he could get up early to go and watch a special showing of the bloody Lion King (this ACTUALLY happened) rather than going out and finding a bar, or a club, or even a dog eating a dead crow...anything would have been better than an early night. So anyway, that's pretty much sets the mood of my travels with Grandpa Ben these days. Goa was a little lame at best, but with him, it was like a SAGA holiday, except with really boring old people who'd rather go to bed early so they can watch a special showing of Singing In The Rain, than stay up 'till 10 to play bingo. Eugh.

so Goa was a bit of a loss, but the beaches were alright, and I even managed to escape Ben for a day and go to one on my own. I spent a whole day drinking ice cold Kingfisher and catching crabs (no not that kind...) on the beach like some kind of feral cave-child. Oh and there was the one good day when I played football with some real feral children (although someone said they were just local school kids, they were just too dirty to be proper people). I got a little drunk before hand though and ended up chopping one of the kids down in the surf in what would have been a straight red card and a three match ban if we hadn’t been playing on beach in a third world country. Even through my alcohol induced haze I felt pretty guilty, especially as he was too weak to struggle against the rip tide and was just sort of…carried off. Apart from that, it was the cinema and hotel cable that kept me sane. Don't go to Goa in June, especially not with someone who likes his rest and 90s Disney films.

And now?

We arrived in "Mumbai" in the early hours of Tuesday morning and checked into our hotel which is right at the top of a four floor building with three other hotels in it on each of the other stories. It's a very strange set up...like a dream or something. Very surreal. Plus there was no lift, which made it very difficult to lug our bags all the way up. I think. I don’t know…the bell boy did it. It certainly wasn’t pleasant to watch, especially when he got a nose bleed. Some of it got on my bag when he passed out, so no tip for him. Honestly, you just can’t get good service.

Yesterday we went to Elephanta Island (I thought it was a new soft drink) where some clown with too much time on his hands had carved a massive warren of caves into the mountain with some impressive statues and wall carvings. It was all carved straight into the rock face and was pretty cool. no one really knows who did it (apparently it was like years ago...like 25 or something. long before I was born, and no one thought that maybe they should keep a record, or ask the guy carving chunks out the mountain who the hell he was). Unfortunately the Portuguese came in and they damaged it pretty badly, probably by missing their piñatas and hitting the cave walls and statues instead. Bloody South Americans...

So the caves were, all joking aside, pretty impressive, but costly to get in and sadly in a pretty bad state. There were sections where reinforced steel concrete had been used to repair damage, but had eroded leaving ugly steel girders and cable visible, which is a real pity.

After that we headed back to the strange hotel and then went out to dinner and off to search out a bar or a club or something to do in the evening (I was keeping an eye out for a dog and a dead crow still). We went to one sports bar, had one drink and then Ben announced he was too tired to do anything else and went back to the hotel and to bed. Probably to…I don’t know…fulfill some old person stereotype. Wet the bed? Break a hip? Be slightly racist? Whatever. What a dufus. So I wandered around Mumbai on my own for a while (which was really cool) because it was only nine o'clock and I didn’t come all the way to India so that I could get a good night’s sleep.

I was on the lookout for some cheapo sunglasses, but was offered instead just about every drug you can imagine with people shouting "brother d'you wan' some Cokaaaaine??!" at me. Needless to say I was totally coked off my tits by the time I got back, and had brought a hooker with me to liven things up. A super night was had by all!

Or really: I just walked round the stalls, bought some sunglasses, politely declined the various drugs in my incredibly English way (“gee, er…no thank you sir, but thank you for the lovely offer. Next time I want to snort some mystery white powder I’ve bought from a decidedly unhygienic Mumbai street dealer, I’ll come straight to you”) then went back to find Ben still awake and watching…wait, you might want to sit down for this. I don’t know why you’re standing to read this e-mail, but sit down. I got back and he was watching…Sex and The god-damn City...for real. The real reason for his "tiredness" turned out to be that he was just so fatigued to find out what was happening in that Horsey Faced bitches love life. He didn’t even pretend to be flipping through the channels. He was just lying there, in bed, watching Sex and The City. He was a scented candle and some massage oils away from really scaring the shit out of me.

so that's about all that's happened recently. Not much to tell really. I look forward to getting back to Durham where people are a little bit more up for fun and games and I’m not constantly being offered drugs. Only 14 more days with Ben, and only just over two weeks left before I make my triumphant return.

see you spoon (oh lol)