Trichy - the hot guide

So there I was wondering around one of the many, many Hindu temples in Trichy when along comes this rather hot guide offering to show me round. Now who am I to pass up an offer of being shown the wonders of yet another Hindu temple by a hot man? Thought about his offer for about 1 second, decided I would be a fool to say no what with me being a culture vulture and all that (ahem). After all he was a welcome change to the 50 plus guides who normally roam the temples!

Three hours later and fully versed in the whys and wherefores of Hindu religion and the history of the temples (although I must admit I was too busy admiring his chiseled cheek bones and to really concentrate on the details), followed by a few chai's (Indian tea - really nice and sweet) and I must admit I was liking the company of my new 'friend'. I can't actually remember his name but that's just mere detail....

Arranged to me the 'hot guide' the following day for dinner. He'd invited to me his home to meet his family - a massive deal in India and seeing as I'm fully embracing the culture (hahahahaha) and generally going with the flow I decided to accept his offer for dinner with the family....

I arrived to see his mother, who is partially deaf, with massive head phones on her head sitting with her face about 2 inches from the TV - turns out her sight isn't too great either - watching an Indian soap. The soaps in India are nothing short of hysterical. Badly filmed and produced and overly dramatic; they look like they've been shot by a 16-year-old media student. The script is pretty basic too - although admittedly I didn't understand what was being said, I did have the invaluable experience of watching a granny beat up 10 men with her walking stick. Very realistic.

So there I was sitting with his mother (well, I was sitting behind her as she was so close to the TV), his brother and little sister watching Indian soap operas....'Okay' I thought to myself. 'I'm just going to go with this one and see what happens.'

The 'hot guide' suggested we head upstairs to the roof terrace. It was rather lovely - skyline view of Trichy under the stars and moon....I'm actually making this sound grander than it actually was - the roof terrace was shared with the other people who lived in the block, there was shite every where and it was pitch black so I kept tripping up when I tried to walk around - not really great for my 'cool, nothing phases me' image but I wasn't about to let that mar my confidence - God forbid.

Anyway, at the ripe old age of 34 (nearly 35 - April 12th, again a gentle reminder to you all - feel free to give generously to an aging lady)it was only a matter of seconds before I clicked where this one was heading. Or rather where he wanted this to go. To be honest I worked that one out about three seconds after he approached me at the temple but again, who am to knock back the advances of a 'hot guide'. I'm no fool God dammit. And besides he was hot - have I mentioned that already?

The 'hot guide' told me all about his family; his father died when he was 10-years-old so he was taken out of school and started working in tea house. Slightly different to many of the 10-year-olds I know....actually I don't know any but you know what I mean! The fact his father passed so early meant there is a massive amount of pressure on him and his brother to get the dowri together for his sisters weddings. Basically in the Hindu religion/culture if the father passes all responsibility for the household, bills etc goes to the sons. The 'hot guide' has to earn enough money to pay for both his sisters dowries (ranging from 1k plus depending on caste) before he and his brother can get married. A lot of responsibility.

We chatted a bit longer, he kept offering me joints and vodka...I was like 'naaa, you're alright, thanks'. Played the 'I don't drink or smoke' card which shocks everyone and throws them completely off guard as obviously ALL English people drink and smoke...'not this one darlin!'.

Had dinner with his family, went back up stairs for more fags and by this time he was steaming. I mean really drunk. Everything about India is extreme, nothing is in half measures - be it the smells, the intensity, everything comes at you at one hundred miles an hour so it's no great surprise many Indians reflect this in their character. So there are no half measures (like the pun!) when it comes to drinking. The Indian men I've met drink like it's going out of fashion. I found his slurring and swaying pretty amusing but then he invited me to stay at his house. 'Whaaaaaaat? Stay at the family home - are you kidding me? I'd rather stab my own hand'...obviously didn't mention the fact I'd rather self harm than stay there. Decided it was my cue to leave. Hot footed it out of there like I was competing for the Olympics 100 metres race. Fast.

I've been Joshied...

Prem Joshua - ever heard of him? I hadn't until I saw a zillion posters around Varkala announcing his open air concert. I'd been in Varkala for a few weeks and by that time had heard every single playlist in the area. Prem Joshua was one of them and his 'hit' Shiva Moon is literally played to death in Varkala so I thought I'd go along.

Prem Joshua or 'Joshi' as his groupies refer to him is viewed by many - again, manly by his followers - as a 'guru'. Personally I'm not convinced about the 'guru' reference mainly due to the fact he's musician so in my opinion this doesn't mean you get to graduate to 'guru' status. But then I like Phil Collins so what do I know. However, Joshi has very successfully infused Indian with contemporary music and it is good. At least I think so but again I ref Phill so you may not believe me!

The open air concert was interesting to day the least. The setting was gorgeous; we were perched on a the edge of a cliff, surrounded by coconut trees and of course it was a gorgeous evening.

First of all I thought it was slightly strange the tickets were, by Indian standards, pretty expensive. This meant that Indians couldn't attend as generally non of them could afford it. Bit of a shame really especially as he's so popular over here plus I didn't really think it was in keeping with the 'one religion, one god, one love, everyone is equal' blah blah blah that appears to be the essence surrounding Joshi.

The second thing that occurred to me was the number of groupies wearing tees with 'I've been joshied' on the back, strategically cut-up (assume this is some sort of fashion statement) - it made me smile. Maybe it's me but the strap line 'I've been joshied' conjured all manner of images in my mind - most of them not that clean either...

The highlight of the evening for me, aside from the performance which was excellent, was when Joshi mentioned love. He started talking about his philosophy on love, how we should love more people etc. He was half way through his 'sermon' when a rather over zealous woman (sporting a 'I've been joshied tee) jumped up, yelled 'we should all love more, yes to love, love, love, love...', did a star jump and started gyrating against a coconut tree...priceless!

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!

My first feature....

Many of you know I'm trying to carve a new career for myself in writing so I thought I'd add my first feature onto the site - it's been pitched to papers etc at the mo and naturally I'll keep you posted on any developements. Wish me luck!

A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER...FINALLY!

Usually the month of January sends me into a near state of depression - the “life has to change in someway’ notion constantly dominating my thoughts. Only this year it’s different. I’m not battling to get on a tube in the morning, I’m not groaning as I drag myself out of bed to try and prepare myself for yet another uninspiring day in the office, I’m not contemplating ‘sticking’ at a relationship with a man with more issues than Parliament and I’m not boozing away my weekends. You see a year ago I made a massive decision. To go traveling…alone.

Working stupid hours chained to my desk in the ‘giddy’ world of Beauty PR, the relentless pressure of 'figures this, figures that', the constant barrage of either unachievable or frankly bonkers requests from clients ranging from ‘can you see if Kylie Minogue will perform at the party for 10k!’ and ‘your target is to get a hasbin hairdresser on the front cover of Vogue’ - sadly I'm not kidding – had taken its toll.

Not only was I working ridiculous hours, my social life was beyond hectic. Perhaps it was a text book situation. I literally felt like stabbing my own hand every time I walked into the soulless office, so I partied hard all weekend to forget about it. Friday night usually finished on Sunday morning. I was getting bored, mainly of myself.

And with the nights out came the 'flighty' men. So relationship wise the garden was looking anything but rosy. All of my friends - and I mean ALL of them - were coupled up. Each weekend I had four choices; going out with my hedonistic mates, a quiet dinner playing gooseberry with a couple, a night out with Mr ‘I’m not ready for any kind of relationship even with myself’ or baby sitting. I was stuck in a rut and didn't know how to get out of it.

A friend suggested I speak to a Life Coach. I instinctively went to scoff at the idea but as my situation wasn't about to change and I didn't have any other ideas - aside from another night out - I decided to give it a go. Three sessions later and thanks to the wonderful guidance of Meena Heath I had a 'get out of jail' plan. I was going travelling. And I was going on my own.

My decision to head off into the big unknown caused varied reactions. My clients’ jaw literally fell to the floor when I told her - but then we are talking about a woman who’s unable to walk 50 yards without insisting her PR agency organises a 7 series Mercedes to drive the 'distance' in case her Jimmy Choos get damaged.

Having said that the general response to my decision was actually really positive. Most told me how brave I was and how they'd love to have the 'guts' to do the same. I didn't see it as bravery as such. As far as I was concerned I didn't really have a choice. Well not any that I liked. I could either stay in a job I found totally uninspiring, in a relationship going now where, surrounded by Papa and Mama gift vouchers and/or wedding invitations and being miserable - or go travelling, give the unexpected a chance just maybe have a fantastic time.

I'd decided to keep my options open - I knew which countries I wanted to see: Tibet, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, Nepal and India and then head down to Oz. It was a lose plan at least. The last thing I wanted to do was start with a ridged itinerary. I was fed up with planning my life and really wanted the chance to see where the wind would take me.

I'm now six months into my travels and I have to pinch myself most days to check I’m not dreaming. When I think back to how I was feeling this time last year I actually think of a different person. I’m actually happy and content. Two things I hadn’t felt for many, many years.

When I wake up the sun is shining, the weather is warm, I’m not battling to get anywhere, I have the time to actually have conversations with people and not just the one’s I know, strangers also get a look in these days! I’m experiencing situations I never thought I’d find myself in. This time last year evenings out consisted of various dinners and bars at places like J Sheekey’s and Amika, now I’m eating food with my right hand with locals outside a food stall. It’s a leveler to say the least.

I've seen the very best and worst of countries and people which has totally broadened my horizons. Poverty which brings tears to your eyes, kindness of people who have so little but still offer you a piece of fruit, strangers who help you when you least expect it and when you most need it. I've laughed with people from all different walks of life, I've seen the Dalai Lama teach, experience near death with a Cobra in the jungle, saved my friend from falling down a ravine (well, it was actually the vine wedge in between her legs that saved her but I like to think I helped from a directional perspective).

I've avoided being recruited for a tantric sex workshop (the thought of trying to orgasm in front of an audience oddly enough didn't appeal), drank Chai with Indian woman who barely spoke English but insisted I sit with her every day, mediated with a Buddhist monk in one of the oldest monasteries in Tibet, survived hair raising bus journeys, met some fantastic people who've become firm friends. Every opinion I've ever had has been totally challenged. The list of unimaginable situations I've encountered has totally blown me away and I'm doing things I'd never, ever thought I'd do.

There have been a few hairy moments though. Mainly in the fashion dept. It's frightening how if you see an item enough times you start to like it. I was in northern India, it was freezing when I found myself eyeing up a rather hideous Yak wool florescent orange hooded top. I actually asked how much it cost, realised what I was doing and promptly took myself back to my room to bang my head repeatedly with an old copy of Vogue which I always carry with me in case of emergencies!

Travelling has given me the head space to work out what I really want from life; it may sound clichéd but it's true. The one thing I've noticed is my cynicism which was very much apparent (to everyone) has completely disappeared. It's actually quite refreshing not to think everyone you come across is trying to rip you off. Maybe its 12 years living in London which does it to you but when you travel on your own (and I've not been 'alone' for more than two days) you have to put your trust people and really rely on your instincts. I've met so many kind people (refreshingly there are so many out there) it's like a breath of fresh air.

So I'm no longer running around at 100 mph, I've lost weight, given up smoking and barely drink anymore. I've been able to fully indulge in everything I've ever wanted to i.e. yoga, meditation and find out how other cultures live and it's fascinating. The blue print of how I thought my future would look has completely changed. And I like it.

I'm not saying travelling is the solution for everyone who's fed up with the mundane. But what I am saying is if you do have the urge to head off into the unknown but you're still a bit unsure and worried about travelling on your own, book your ticket and start saving. You won't regret it. I've yet to meet anyone who has. And besides if you don't like it you can always come back.

Meeting the parents

To be invited to someones house for lunch to meet the family is a pretty big deal in India. Especially if you're a not Indian. In fact it's considered to be a huge compliment and something not to be taken lightly. So when my friend Vinod invited me to Alleppy to meet his family I was flattered and also a little nervous.

Firstly I'm hating my clothes at the moment. I've been wearing the same outfits for over 6 months so let's just say my wardrobe and I aren't on speaking terms. I didn't want to turn up at his house looking like a tramp so I had to buy a new outfit. The trouble is all the clothes in Varkala have either a hideous paisley pattern in various random primary colours or some sort of motif on them - usually an 'OM' or a picture of one of the Hindu Gods. I've always turned my nose up at people who wear 'OM' tees. I used to think there were idiots, try hards with no dress sense. Now I realise this isn't the case at all - the reason is because that's all you can buy.

I have to admit I did smirk when I realised I had very little choice in the clothing dept and purchased a tee with an Hindu God on the front of it. 'That'll teach me' I thought as I ticked another thing off the 'I would never do that' list.

In the end I chose a tee with Genish - the God of overcoming obstacles - as I figured I needed a little assistance in this area esp if I was meeting parents. Experience has taught me these types of meetings can bring all manner of obstacles to the fore front. Usually the father is cool, relaxed and likes to joke around and the mother sits there with a stern face thinking you're leading their son astray. In my experience they don't need leading but that's another story.

But Vinod is just a friend. That said the general opinion in India is that all western woman are lose and have sex with random strangers where ever and whenever. I've had many a conversation about the fact we don't have sex in bushes during our lunch breaks. Mores the pity (Obviously I don't mention that bit for fear of being stoned to death). Either way I knew way his parents would have an opinion about western women so I didn't want to dress inappropriately or look like I've just been dragged out backwards from a bush.

Outfit brought and approved by several Indians we headed to Alleppy by train. 3 hours later we're having to bribe the police as our friend who picked us up in a car was also using his mobile while driving. In India you don't get fined. Well you do but not as we know it. You have to bribe the police out of the situation. In this case it cost us 100 INR. Not a massive deal but just made me realise how obviously corrupt this massive country is - I'm not saying the UK is any different. It's probably just not in your face as much.

A car, followed by a rickshaw and bus journey later and I'm strolling down a beach strewn with fishing boats on the shore and no one around. Gorgeous white sand, blue sea, coconut trees - perfect.

Vinod's family or rather the men in his family are all fisherman. They have very little money and I mean very little money. The entire day was a huge experience for me and I have to admit extremely humbling. Firstly, these people have what I call 'real' worries. Of course it's all subjective but I think you'll agree worrying about where your next meal is coming from is slightly different to fretting over whether you can afford a holiday this year, a new handbag or a pair of shoes. His immediate family ie mum, dad and brother live in a one bedroom brick house. The roof is made out of corrigated iron. The toilet is outside. They have no running water in the house or sewage system but they do have electricity. In the bedroom where they entertain guests they have a double bed which has a thin mattress, a stereo and a few plastic chairs. It's basic but very clean.

The entire day was spent being introduced to various uncles, aunts, brother cousins, brothers, sister cousins (some cousins are just cousins some are sister or brother cousins depending on how close they are) and of course this mum and dad. I was the official photographer for the day - his extended family don't have a camera and aren't used to having their picture taken so consequently I was asked several hundred times to take pictures of children, uncles, aunts basically the whole family from various different angles. Giggles would fill the room when I showed the pictures to everyone. Some commented about their beards, grey hair - basically there was no vanity in the room - as far as I could tell there were no mirrors in any of the houses/huts. And there's me moaning about not having a full length one in my room. At least I'd be able to tell if I had a little beard growing on my face - one female relation clearly didn't know....or maybe she did but didn't care!

Anyway, after meeting his entire extended family we arrived at his house for lunch. The food looked and was amazing. Fresh fish, rice, dahl (lentils) and vegetables. Fine I thought. I have mastered eating with my right hand (even though I'm left handed). I can handle this. So the food was placed on the bed (no table) and I sat on a plastic chair to eat it. I was already visualising the impressive looks on their faces when they saw how well I could eat with my right hand when I realised everyone sitting there wasn't actually eating. They didn't have any food in front of them, they were there to watch me eat. Oh the pressure.

I tried to delicately manipulate a small amount of food into my right hand and pop it in my mouth but my hand started shaking with nerves so I missed my mouth and the rice, fish and dalh dripped down my chin and then slowly plopped onto the front of my tee. Genish clearly wasn't helping me overcome this obstacle! The whole family laughed at me (great) and handed me a spoon. My recovery time from this little situ was quite interesting. I think I managed it fairly successfully by agreeing to drink Toddie (strong alcoholic coconut drink) with his father and uncles!

Agreeing to drink the Toddie and admitting that I smoked definitely won me some points. I was told by his father - who spoke perfect English which is unusual as he's a fisherman - that women in Kerala don't drink or smoke. 'well women in the UK do' I smiled and winked at him. With that he laughed and handed me the Toddie - full to the brim.

So I was something of a novelty. The thing is the Toddie was strong and I hadn't had any breakfast. Plus my dining experience was still very fresh in my mind and I'd lost my appetite when the food slipped down my chin so I hadn't eaten much lunch either. So it wasn't a huge surprise when it dawned on me that after several sips of Toddie I was a bit pissed. Then out came MY family photos. I was on a role. I didn't realise I'd brought my soap box with me but out it came anyway. Vinod's father and I were having big deep and meaningful chats about arranged marriages, how men and woman live together before getting married in the UK, how my father feels about having four daughters (you could tell he genuinely felt sorry for him!) and how Indians in general view western woman (not so great). It was fascinating. He told me about his work as a fisherman; he's away from home or three nights then back for two. He talked about how and where he sells his fish, how much he sells it for and he also showed me his technique or lighting a cig when the wind is up.

Me, Vinod, his mum, dad and brother sat on the bed talking and drinking Toddie and chai all afternoon. It was pretty random though - we were sitting there chatting when Vinod decided to put on some music on. Next thing I know 'smack my bitch up' by the Prodigy was blasting from the speakers and his dad was rocking backwards and forwards to the music. I asked if he liked it - he smiled, carried on bopping to the music and nodded his head. I'm thinking 'the last time I heard this was in Pacha in Ibiza and now I'm sitting in a tiny brick room with an Indian family listening to it'...that's India for you.

I really enjoyed myself. Usually meeting the parents in my experience is formal, mildly painful and stiff. This couldn't have been more different. They were hospitable, made me feel so welcome and were really relaxed. The family were joking and laughing together; you could tell there was a real closeness between them all. And although they have very little money they instisted on feeding me and topping up my glass of todie at every opportunity. And you have to accept everything that's offered otherwise it's considered rude. So in true style and much to their amusment I passed out on the bed - thankfully his mum did too (although she hadn't been drinking, I suspect she was genuinley knackered from cooking a huge lunch). Is dad thought this was hilarious. I was mortified. Thank God I didn't sleep talk or snore. At least I don't think I did. I definately didn't do any permanent damage as they've invited me back again. Better perfect eating with my right hand!

Yoga moves....

I'm back in Varkala, Kerala for the forseeable future - at least untill I get a few features placed - and I'm staying at a brilliant little guesthouse called 'Skyline'. It's perfect, management are fabulous, has a gorgeous, shady garden plus yoga and meditation each day.

The yoga teacher Harri is excellent. He's my kind of yoga teacher as he doesn't bang on all the time about being pure ie not drinking and smoking and really pushes the fact you can do yoga and live your life at the same time. Naturally I've befriended him. He's German and hilarous. Used to be a Buddhist monk, will happily talk to me about the fact he was celibate for over a year and doesn't mind my personal questions about the subject either. Fansinating! I won't go into the details but lets just say my jaw has been hitting the floor on a number of occasions.

I offered to add a bit of blurb on the Lonely Planet website forum. A nice thing to do you think - well, yes it is and frankly the more and more I travel the nicer I'm becoming. Shocker I know. Like you didn't think it could improve already - but it has. I've always had the opinon that in general nice things happen to nice people, you get back what you give blah blah and have to say it's true. Before I could write the peice Harri offered me free yoga lessons for a month. How could I resist? And he's taken me under his wing in the sense that if I don't go he asks why. So I have to go every day otherwise I get a bollocking. And I'm loving it. Who'd have thought it eh? but then the unusual and unpredictable is happening to me on a regular basis so rather than fight it, I'm going with it.

So yoga and mediation are now part of my daily routine. I've never felt better....or so I thought until one particular lesson.

We practice yoga on the roof of Skyline - it's incredable. The view is stunning and I have to admit to a certain smugness when I spend a Monday morning surrounded by coconut trees in a balmy climate, practicing yoga surrounded by the morning sunrays. Even the squarking crows sound hypnotic (and I have a fear of birds!).

So there I was, in the middle of my downward dog position, praising myself for my new found flexability when I felt something on my head. Didn't really pay much attention to it until I heard Harri howl with laughter. I looked up and suddenly noticed something dripping from my head. I looked down again and just infront of me was a 'present' from one of the crows. Yep, you've guessed it - I was shate on from a great hight. Right on my head. Crow crap dripping off my head onto the yoga mat. Harri was laughing, I was nearly crying but still holing my downward dog pose - now that's dedication for you...