To pee or not to pee?

I was heading to Pondicherry via a series of Govt buses (check - travelling with locals, being stared and pointed at constantly and not minding) when I had my loo epiphany.

I'm not sure what brought it on - my experience of the public loos at the bus station in Kodolone was no more hideous than usual - well, to the untrained eye it would've been vile but now I'm a seasoned loo tolerator I find myself in new territory...loo situs just don't seem to bother me anymore.

It's like I've turned a corner. I feel like a different person. I don't recognise myself anymore. Back in the UK I would have a hissy fit if there was loo paper on the floor, I'd roll my eyes at the cavalier attitude of staff and their low standards of cleanliness and vow never to visit the loos of certain 'five star' establishments ever again.

My first 6 months of travelling and the various loo situs brought tears to my eyes. I actually wept in Tibet when faced with possibly the most poorest excuse for a public toilet - I wouldn't let an animal pee in there. My how things change.

I knew I was in for an interesting loo experience simply because of where I was travelling. Compared to Kerala, Tamil Nadu (south east of India) is rougher, poorer, dustier and generally dirtier. The people are lovely though which makes it all the more interesting. Just when I'm about to dry wretch someone smiles at me, says hello or asks me where I'm going - everyone wants to know where I'm going - which more than makes up for a few smells!

Back to the loo - warning bells stated ringing as I staggered (had my back pack weighing me down) to the loo and a million flies were buzzing around me as I got within 50 metres of the place in question. I'd just like to add at this point the loos are actually situated next to the veg/fruit stands in the bus station which makes apples and bananas all the more appetising don't you think?

I gingerly entered the loo - it was an open toilet in the sense there were no doors, just four walls, a floor and a pitiful attempt at a trough. There were a large number of 'presents' on the floor (runny ones at that) and a million flies buzzing around...the stench was out of control.

Did it bother me? Well no. There I was squatting on the floor among my other fellow squatters (check: beggars, fruit sellers etc), thinking that despite the the runny presents, flies and general stench it was actually quite nice that the public loo was actually open air. There was no roof. And I complimenting the designers for that simple fact.

You see I no longer wince at public (literally) loos, presents, flies and the like. Over the last seven months my loo barriers have totally disintegrated. I think I can safely say that nothing, and I mean nothing, shocks me when it comes to the status or rather cleanliness of the loos I come across. And that's when it dawned on me - the tied has turned, I've been worn down...peed out.

Leaving Varkala

Leaving Varkala was one of the hardest goodbyes I've had to date. I'd stayed there in total for nearly two months and to be honest I'd really settled there. It was easy: I'd made so many friends, spent my days sunbathing, practicing yoga and hanging out. Eventually it got a bit much - before I knew where I was I had my feet fully under the table and knew it was time to leave when I became fully embroiled in local Indian gossip. When the going gets tough - the tough leave. Don't get me wrong it wasn't anything I couldn't handle but nevertheless it made me realise my time in Varkala had to come to an end. As all good things have to eventually.

I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz - when she said goodbye the the Lion, Tin Man and Scarecrow before heading back to Kansas - when I left Varkala. I had such an amazing send off. All the gorgeous friends I'd made from Skyline, Rex's travel planet and possibly the best beauty therapist in the world - Reji - where there to wave me off. Even my 'adopted' brother, Vinod, came with me to the train station despite the fact he would potentially feel the wrath of his boss for skiving. And possibly the kindest man I've ever met, The Councellor, took time out from his meeting at the council and turned up at the train station to say goodbye to me too. To say it or rather I was emotional would be an understatement.

In true Indian style Vinod escorted me across the train tracks (who needs a bridge when you can just cross the tracks to the other platform) to the platform where my train was due. We sat down and smoked a cig together and that's when it started. It all got a bit much for me and I started crying. Poor Vinod looked so uncomfortable and I swear from the look on his face he was contemplating throwing himself on to the train tracks - anything to avoid a tearful female!

The thought of my tears bringing Vinod to actually consider death as an alternative to me weeping was enough to make me pull myself together. However when I boarded the train is was a slightly different matter. 'Great' I thought 'I can cry at leisure now!' And cry I did. In fact I wept most of the way the Madurai.

To start off with it was mainly over a guy I'd spent alot of time with while I was in Varkala - which just goes to show that at 34 I still have the ability to behave like a teenager and completely justify my behaviour at the same time. Not sure which I should be more concerned about; the fact that I can act like a teenager or that I can completely justify every single one of my actions whether appropriate or not.

I was half way to Madurai when I suddenly realised I was sobbing over a guy. Mildy mortified with myself I decided to go the whole hog and cry about everything and anything I could think of - in for a penny and all that. Not sure if anyone else has this (maybe it's just me) but I actually have a file in my brain, an index if you will of things I can cry about. I whip it out when necessary.

So that's what I did. Out came the crying list. I cried about the fact I was leaving so many friends behind in Varkala, what a great time I'd had, all my friends are married/coupled up and I'm not, I'm turning 35 on 12th April (pls note), I found my first grey hair, a dog nicked one of my fav Haviana's while I was sunbathing, my rucksack is too heavy, I've lost so much weight my knickers no longer fit me (tears of joy in that case!) and the man in the bunk above me was snoring. I sobbed for Great Britain. And that's one of the things I like about India. When you're sad no one comes near you. I think the fact I looked like I'd gone 10 rounds in a boxing ring with Mike Tyson may have deterred people from approaching me. No matter. It suited my mood - to be alone, crying.

I arrived in Madurai a new person - albeit slightly puffy around the eyes. Refused to pay 20 INR for a richshaw 'I'm a seasoned traveller' I thought 'I will walk'. 20 minutes later it suddenly dawned on me that I didn't know where I was going, it was 5am and my legs were about to buckle under the weight of my rucksack. Ate humble pie and hopped in the back of a rickshaw, arrived at a guest house where as soon put my bags down in my room the guy started trying to sell me some weed...welcome to Madurai..think I might like it here!