Nevermind the Jains. We have a language barrier.
The fact I got my Trance mixed up with Techno yesterday can only mean that I'm in a TRANCE from being ill.
The "Jains" turned out to be a bunch of hardcore ravers from Kannur and Goa. They were friends of Mr Jitoo's, the owner of the hotel. The party is/was in the honour of the birthday of a Hindu god, and a birthday of one of the ravers. It started about 8pm last night, and as I type at 12:13 precisely, it is still banging out around 140 bpm (beats per minute) - 16 hours later. It's what I would call ugly, thudding-bass unimaginative techno.
I had rung reception and asked if I could swap rooms just for one night. Yes, came the reply. I heard nothing for ages. This is normal for India. People don't like to offend so they say "yes" when they can't oblige, or haven't got a fucking clue what you're talking about.
I rang again at 30 minutes past minute. Another voice, thank Shiva. Hello, Reception.
Me: Hello, Reception. It's Room 403. I can't sleep. Please can I change rooms for tonight?
Reception: Sorry, the hotel is fully booked tonight.
Methinks: Geez, where the hell did all these mutherfuckas suddenly descend from? It was a beautifully quiet hotel when I arrived earlier in the week. [Now I realise that it's because it's the weekend. Indians taking time out and going to the seaside ... doh.]
Me: Oh, I still can't sleep.
Reception: OK, OK, I will call Mr Jitoo.
Me: No. Please don't. It's his friend's birthday party.
Methinks: How the fuck do I tell the owner to stop raving and enjoying himself. Don't be silly, Reception!
I slept from around midnight till 0500. Party by the dinky swimming pool still fairly loud. I somehow fall asleep until around 0600. This time, I can't fall back asleep. May as well have a shower, and go out and take some photos of Dawn and the fishermen out towards the lighthouse direction, and the ravers. If you can't beat 'em, you may as well photograph 'em.
I took photos of the handful of ravers. Some looked wrecked. But Mr Jitoo, I'd say is in his early thirties, is about 6 feet tall, hair tied back in very short bun [that sounds silly, but way too short to call a ponytail], looks as clear-eyed, and majestically humble as ever. He is dancing with a young woman with big long long hair. She looks a bit princessy. She's wearing sunglasses at dawn. I can imagine that if you got on the wrong side of her, it would be Gucci handbags at dawn.
I decided to ask beforehand if I could take photos. I regret having asked now. I had to swear, hand of heart, Guide's honour, that I would not put the photos on any social media site, or anywhere on the net. I looked at the beefy sweaty raver who I stupidly asked, with my glasses off. I stared into his eyes and said, I promise. Do you believe me? He replied, looks like it. Feck. That means I'll have to keep my word now ...
Mr Jitoo: Ironic that having pulled out all the stops earlier in the day, and arranged a smooth passage at the hospital for me - I return to his hotel around 2pm for him to give me some kindly advice. Why don't you take some rest? You go out in the sun, go here and there. Better to relax in your condition.
After lunch, I took his advice. As I wrote yesterday, I had my first siesta.
India. Doesn't make sense to me. OK, OK. I'm an India virgin. By no stretch of the imagination am I the only woman whose first encounter of India is by herself. But, I am telling you. It ain't easy. Not when you're not in tip top physical condition. And your Lonely Planet guide has vamoosed from your iGadget.
Me = Lonely MOanly.
p.s. It is also pissing me off that I can't insert images easily on this iThingyMaJig. Please can some kindly person leave me a comment and explain why there are so many glitches?
p.p.s. So. It's a triple whammy. Birthday of a friend of the hotel owner's. Birthday of Shiva today, and a party that the owenr himself has spent the whole night dancing at. What hope do I have of complaining?. Ha. I'll find a way ...
The fact I got my Trance mixed up with Techno yesterday can only mean that I'm in a TRANCE from being ill.
The "Jains" turned out to be a bunch of hardcore ravers from Kannur and Goa. They were friends of Mr Jitoo's, the owner of the hotel. The party is/was in the honour of the birthday of a Hindu god, and a birthday of one of the ravers. It started about 8pm last night, and as I type at 12:13 precisely, it is still banging out around 140 bpm (beats per minute) - 16 hours later. It's what I would call ugly, thudding-bass unimaginative techno.
I had rung reception and asked if I could swap rooms just for one night. Yes, came the reply. I heard nothing for ages. This is normal for India. People don't like to offend so they say "yes" when they can't oblige, or haven't got a fucking clue what you're talking about.
I rang again at 30 minutes past minute. Another voice, thank Shiva. Hello, Reception.
Me: Hello, Reception. It's Room 403. I can't sleep. Please can I change rooms for tonight?
Reception: Sorry, the hotel is fully booked tonight.
Methinks: Geez, where the hell did all these mutherfuckas suddenly descend from? It was a beautifully quiet hotel when I arrived earlier in the week. [Now I realise that it's because it's the weekend. Indians taking time out and going to the seaside ... doh.]
Me: Oh, I still can't sleep.
Reception: OK, OK, I will call Mr Jitoo.
Me: No. Please don't. It's his friend's birthday party.
Methinks: How the fuck do I tell the owner to stop raving and enjoying himself. Don't be silly, Reception!
I slept from around midnight till 0500. Party by the dinky swimming pool still fairly loud. I somehow fall asleep until around 0600. This time, I can't fall back asleep. May as well have a shower, and go out and take some photos of Dawn and the fishermen out towards the lighthouse direction, and the ravers. If you can't beat 'em, you may as well photograph 'em.
I took photos of the handful of ravers. Some looked wrecked. But Mr Jitoo, I'd say is in his early thirties, is about 6 feet tall, hair tied back in very short bun [that sounds silly, but way too short to call a ponytail], looks as clear-eyed, and majestically humble as ever. He is dancing with a young woman with big long long hair. She looks a bit princessy. She's wearing sunglasses at dawn. I can imagine that if you got on the wrong side of her, it would be Gucci handbags at dawn.
I decided to ask beforehand if I could take photos. I regret having asked now. I had to swear, hand of heart, Guide's honour, that I would not put the photos on any social media site, or anywhere on the net. I looked at the beefy sweaty raver who I stupidly asked, with my glasses off. I stared into his eyes and said, I promise. Do you believe me? He replied, looks like it. Feck. That means I'll have to keep my word now ...
Mr Jitoo: Ironic that having pulled out all the stops earlier in the day, and arranged a smooth passage at the hospital for me - I return to his hotel around 2pm for him to give me some kindly advice. Why don't you take some rest? You go out in the sun, go here and there. Better to relax in your condition.
After lunch, I took his advice. As I wrote yesterday, I had my first siesta.
India. Doesn't make sense to me. OK, OK. I'm an India virgin. By no stretch of the imagination am I the only woman whose first encounter of India is by herself. But, I am telling you. It ain't easy. Not when you're not in tip top physical condition. And your Lonely Planet guide has vamoosed from your iGadget.
Me = Lonely MOanly.
p.s. It is also pissing me off that I can't insert images easily on this iThingyMaJig. Please can some kindly person leave me a comment and explain why there are so many glitches?
p.p.s. So. It's a triple whammy. Birthday of a friend of the hotel owner's. Birthday of Shiva today, and a party that the owenr himself has spent the whole night dancing at. What hope do I have of complaining?. Ha. I'll find a way ...
No comments:
Post a Comment