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| Arial View of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands |
I know this blog entry is about as late as Victoria Beckham's period, and for that I’m truly sorry...
Same excuse as always: mid week, I’ve been grafting like a beast at work ... at the weekends, I have been out and about soaking up as much of India as possible before my time here comes to a close...
Same excuse as always: mid week, I’ve been grafting like a beast at work ... at the weekends, I have been out and about soaking up as much of India as possible before my time here comes to a close...
Apologies and excuses over, it’s high time I gave you a run down on mine and Sandi's recent trip to the Andaman and Nicobar Islands...
Now, I’ll assume that not all of you know of the A & N islands as I sure as hell didn’t before coming to India! Here is a brief history...
Now, I’ll assume that not all of you know of the A & N islands as I sure as hell didn’t before coming to India! Here is a brief history...
The A&N Islands are a tropical archipelago that sit at the far eastern extremity of the Bay of Bengal in, coincidentally enough, the Andaman Sea. The islands are actually closer to Burma, Thailand and Indonesia than India.
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| Nicobari Tribesmen |
Originally tribal territories, the islands have been inhabited for at least 2,500 years and were once home to several different tribes including;
The Great Andamanese
The Jarwa
The Nicobari
The Jangil
The Onge
The Sentinelese
About a thousand years or so ago, a great king of Tamil occupied the Islands to use as a base to launch an attack against the Hindu-Malay Empire of Sriwijaya who were operating out of Sumatra.
Since then, the Danes have had a stint at occupying them but failed due to repeated outbreaks of hard core malaria (pussies), after which they flogged the Islands to everyone’s favourite global pillagers’... the Brits...
We used the islands as a penal colony for a while before the Japs swiped them during WWII. In the 1940's, they returned to Indian control and have remained part of India since...
There are still tribes living in A&N but in lesser numbers and tending to be on Islands which tourists are not allowed to go to... fair enough.
Right, on with the story... and you will notice that the pictures are not necessarily related to the text next to which they are inserted in this week's blog... just go with it...
We are due to leave for the airport at 4am Saturday morning to take on a fairly sizable journey:
Leg 1 - Fly from Mumbai to Chennai
Leg 2 - Fly from Chennai to Port Blair (capital of the A&N)
Leg 3 - Get a boat from Port Blair to Havelock Island where we are staying
I’m in the office until late on the Friday evening, trying to get my work in order so that I can enjoy my week off... Sandi spent much of the day getting our things ready to go so that we could go out for a few drinks in Mumbai when I finished work.
When I finally finished work and got home about 10pm-ish, my mind was, as it often is at the end of a stressy week, utter cabbage. My efforts to finish the packing that Sandi had so kindly done 90% of, were 'fair to shit' at best.
It was obvious that I wasn’t going out for drinks as I was unfit for public consumption. I told Sandi to go out without me and meet her friends.
Sandi rolls in at about 2-2:30am...leathered. Nice one.
The alarm clock goes off about an hour and a half later and nob-end over here has to negotiate a less than pleasant Sandi out of the door for the Ricky ride to the airport.
We made the flight, during which Sand mostly slept with her head in my lap, occasionally waking up to say something unpleasant about the child sitting in front of us who was making too much noise. To be fair, there was a particularly nasty moment when anonymous moisture flew over the back of the child’s chair in front and hit me, Sandi and the guy sitting next to us.
The parents turn round and apologise ... I smell my arm ... I’m unsure as to what the moisture is ... my arm smells pretty bad, but then I had been on a sweaty Indian flight for a couple of hours so it was possible that the smell was just me.
I thought, at best we are talking about the lid coming off a water bottle and spraying us... at worst we are talking about a nappy change gone wrong and the liquid on my arm, on Sandi's face and in her ear ... is human feculence...
Sandi wakes up after a moment, for her ear is filled with liquid... She looks at me in a confused manner whilst she wipes her face and empties her ear... she says nothing for a moment, as it clear she hasn’t fully processed the situation... but it was only a matter of time... I needed to make a call on how this was going to play out...
The Great Andamanese
The Jarwa
The Nicobari
The Jangil
The Onge
The Sentinelese
About a thousand years or so ago, a great king of Tamil occupied the Islands to use as a base to launch an attack against the Hindu-Malay Empire of Sriwijaya who were operating out of Sumatra.
Since then, the Danes have had a stint at occupying them but failed due to repeated outbreaks of hard core malaria (pussies), after which they flogged the Islands to everyone’s favourite global pillagers’... the Brits...
We used the islands as a penal colony for a while before the Japs swiped them during WWII. In the 1940's, they returned to Indian control and have remained part of India since...
There are still tribes living in A&N but in lesser numbers and tending to be on Islands which tourists are not allowed to go to... fair enough.
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| Havelock docks |
We are due to leave for the airport at 4am Saturday morning to take on a fairly sizable journey:
Leg 1 - Fly from Mumbai to Chennai
Leg 2 - Fly from Chennai to Port Blair (capital of the A&N)
Leg 3 - Get a boat from Port Blair to Havelock Island where we are staying
I’m in the office until late on the Friday evening, trying to get my work in order so that I can enjoy my week off... Sandi spent much of the day getting our things ready to go so that we could go out for a few drinks in Mumbai when I finished work.
When I finally finished work and got home about 10pm-ish, my mind was, as it often is at the end of a stressy week, utter cabbage. My efforts to finish the packing that Sandi had so kindly done 90% of, were 'fair to shit' at best.
It was obvious that I wasn’t going out for drinks as I was unfit for public consumption. I told Sandi to go out without me and meet her friends.
Sandi rolls in at about 2-2:30am...leathered. Nice one.
The alarm clock goes off about an hour and a half later and nob-end over here has to negotiate a less than pleasant Sandi out of the door for the Ricky ride to the airport.
We made the flight, during which Sand mostly slept with her head in my lap, occasionally waking up to say something unpleasant about the child sitting in front of us who was making too much noise. To be fair, there was a particularly nasty moment when anonymous moisture flew over the back of the child’s chair in front and hit me, Sandi and the guy sitting next to us.
The parents turn round and apologise ... I smell my arm ... I’m unsure as to what the moisture is ... my arm smells pretty bad, but then I had been on a sweaty Indian flight for a couple of hours so it was possible that the smell was just me.
I thought, at best we are talking about the lid coming off a water bottle and spraying us... at worst we are talking about a nappy change gone wrong and the liquid on my arm, on Sandi's face and in her ear ... is human feculence...
Sandi wakes up after a moment, for her ear is filled with liquid... She looks at me in a confused manner whilst she wipes her face and empties her ear... she says nothing for a moment, as it clear she hasn’t fully processed the situation... but it was only a matter of time... I needed to make a call on how this was going to play out...
- Option A - tell her the substance came from the seat in front and there is a high probability its piss. Sandi goes mental at both me (default) and potentially attacks the child and its mother and father (just for giving birth to it) at 30,000 feet. This was risky as it may have well not been piss and in which case I’m the dick...
- Option B - tell her it came from the chair in front but is just water. Sandi could still kick off but would maybe refrain from shoving a Kingfisher Air complimentary Samosa up a one year old's arse...
- Option C - take one for the team and act like you accidentally spilt water, apologise quickly and put her back to sleep whist she is still drowsy and confused.
Now, I’m not a pussy but I am pragmatic. No one who has had an hour and a half sleep wants to wake up to the news that their ear is probably full of urine ...This situation clearly called for the path of least resistance so I went for option C, comforted her, wiped her face with a napkin and settled her back down to sleep.
I told her the full situation later on when she had woken up naturally and was in an altogether better frame of mind.
Anyway, crisis averted, we finish our journey to Port Bair, get to the Jetty, buy our tickets and head for Havelock Island...
I told her the full situation later on when she had woken up naturally and was in an altogether better frame of mind.
Anyway, crisis averted, we finish our journey to Port Bair, get to the Jetty, buy our tickets and head for Havelock Island...
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| The approach to Havelock |
BTW, it was fucking overcast...not impressed. It’s very hot and very humid but without a glimmer of sunlight and I’m preparing for the fact that I may have whisked my darling dearest off to a tropical paradise during shit week...
We get to Havelock and grab a Ricky to head to the beach resort/camp/cottages that we had planned to stay in. The young Ricky driver, who for the record is an absolute legend, spoke fairly good English and we had some banter all the way to the place. We get there, leave our bags in the Ricky and walk into the camp, led by the Ricky guy ... Sandi whispers to me 'bit of a shithole?!’... I whisper back 'damn straight, shall we fuck it off?' ...'hell yes' ... we whisper-shout to the driver just before he gets to the reception. He turns round and immediately signals back ... he knows the score and scampers back to us and we haul arse out of there.
So, what next? We tell the lad what kind of place we want and our budget and ask him to take us to a few places. He takes us to literally five or six different places, speaks with the owners, arranges a viewing of the cabins/rooms and even comes with us to view each of them. Now you have to bear in mind that we were paying him 50 Rupees (70-80p) for the hotel transfer and he had spent the best part of an hour going round the whole island with us. Top bloke!
We get to Havelock and grab a Ricky to head to the beach resort/camp/cottages that we had planned to stay in. The young Ricky driver, who for the record is an absolute legend, spoke fairly good English and we had some banter all the way to the place. We get there, leave our bags in the Ricky and walk into the camp, led by the Ricky guy ... Sandi whispers to me 'bit of a shithole?!’... I whisper back 'damn straight, shall we fuck it off?' ...'hell yes' ... we whisper-shout to the driver just before he gets to the reception. He turns round and immediately signals back ... he knows the score and scampers back to us and we haul arse out of there.
So, what next? We tell the lad what kind of place we want and our budget and ask him to take us to a few places. He takes us to literally five or six different places, speaks with the owners, arranges a viewing of the cabins/rooms and even comes with us to view each of them. Now you have to bear in mind that we were paying him 50 Rupees (70-80p) for the hotel transfer and he had spent the best part of an hour going round the whole island with us. Top bloke!
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| Our cottage |
We eventually settle on a place called, would you believe it, Holiday Inn. Now this is not part of the global chain and is, quite frankly, about as far from a Holiday Inn hotel as humanly possible.
The deal was that they had their own private stretch of the beach and some nice little one bedroom cottages with AC and bathroom. The cottage we wanted however, would not be available until the next day so to secure the room, we had to do the first night in one of the budget bamboo shacks. No problem though, as we have certainly stayed in worse accommodation and it was just for one night.
In all fairness, we were secure in our mozzie net and the room proved to be no issue other than the occasional special forces Cockroach swinging from the roof and dropping onto the top of the mozzie net (btw, Andaman cockroaches and mozzies are fucking immense!!). We even got a visit from a Gecko or two, and who doesn’t like Geckos?
We didn’t do much the first night, other than go for a meal with some guys we met on the boat and watch the cricket world cup final with some local boys on a 12 inch TV. Despite the small crowd, the atmosphere was still electric and when India won, you could hear little pockets of cheering and the odd firecracker in the distance across the island...
Of course, if I had thought ahead, I might have stayed in Mumbai for the final and tried to get us tickets to the match (Avi got a VIP box ticket to the match and spent the whole day with Bollywood beauties - cock!) ... What the hell, we were in an (albeit muggy) tropical paradise.
Whilst we were watching the cricket, the resident holiday cock surfaced. There is always one, it doesn’t matter where you stay or what country you go to, there is always a cock. A man that talks as if he knows it all, he has seen it all, most things he says are fundamentally wrong, or bullshit ... everyone around knows but no one says anything. It’s better to let them claim to have punched the CEO of Lloyds TSB in the face after the banking crisis. It’s better to let them claim that they have sued the company you work for and have received a fifty grand back hand payout for a data breach that clearly never happened.... our cock, was Tony.
Tony was a mid fifties, English, grade A pillock. He lived in Goa, worked as an online 'no win-no fee' lawyer and in his spare time, scuba dived (yes, ashamed to say he is one of us).
We had to endure Tony in small amounts each day for the entire week. It was amazing though, as we found that him being such a dick united the camp. We actually all bonded with each other through talking mostly, about how much of a nob Tony was...
Anyway, we hit the sack and I got up early in the morning to go and get some wheels for the week. I thought I would surprise Sandi and get the bike and fuel sorted before she woke and whisk her off for the day after breakfast.
The deal was that they had their own private stretch of the beach and some nice little one bedroom cottages with AC and bathroom. The cottage we wanted however, would not be available until the next day so to secure the room, we had to do the first night in one of the budget bamboo shacks. No problem though, as we have certainly stayed in worse accommodation and it was just for one night.
In all fairness, we were secure in our mozzie net and the room proved to be no issue other than the occasional special forces Cockroach swinging from the roof and dropping onto the top of the mozzie net (btw, Andaman cockroaches and mozzies are fucking immense!!). We even got a visit from a Gecko or two, and who doesn’t like Geckos?
We didn’t do much the first night, other than go for a meal with some guys we met on the boat and watch the cricket world cup final with some local boys on a 12 inch TV. Despite the small crowd, the atmosphere was still electric and when India won, you could hear little pockets of cheering and the odd firecracker in the distance across the island...
Of course, if I had thought ahead, I might have stayed in Mumbai for the final and tried to get us tickets to the match (Avi got a VIP box ticket to the match and spent the whole day with Bollywood beauties - cock!) ... What the hell, we were in an (albeit muggy) tropical paradise.
Whilst we were watching the cricket, the resident holiday cock surfaced. There is always one, it doesn’t matter where you stay or what country you go to, there is always a cock. A man that talks as if he knows it all, he has seen it all, most things he says are fundamentally wrong, or bullshit ... everyone around knows but no one says anything. It’s better to let them claim to have punched the CEO of Lloyds TSB in the face after the banking crisis. It’s better to let them claim that they have sued the company you work for and have received a fifty grand back hand payout for a data breach that clearly never happened.... our cock, was Tony.
Tony was a mid fifties, English, grade A pillock. He lived in Goa, worked as an online 'no win-no fee' lawyer and in his spare time, scuba dived (yes, ashamed to say he is one of us).
We had to endure Tony in small amounts each day for the entire week. It was amazing though, as we found that him being such a dick united the camp. We actually all bonded with each other through talking mostly, about how much of a nob Tony was...
Anyway, we hit the sack and I got up early in the morning to go and get some wheels for the week. I thought I would surprise Sandi and get the bike and fuel sorted before she woke and whisk her off for the day after breakfast.
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| The beach outside our cottage |
BTW - I got up and it was sunny, sunny, sunny!!! The sea was glowing turquoise and air was fresh... This turned out to be the case for most of the trip, with only a few overcast spells and a couple of tropical downpours as the week went on
I walked all the way into the village and back, found the place that had the best looking bike. Now when I say best looking, I’m not a mechanic and know nothing about bikes, I was looking for the most aesthetically pleasing set of wheels on the island... Even on a tropical island, image is everything and I couldn’t be seen riding round on a heap of shit!
I walked all the way into the village and back, found the place that had the best looking bike. Now when I say best looking, I’m not a mechanic and know nothing about bikes, I was looking for the most aesthetically pleasing set of wheels on the island... Even on a tropical island, image is everything and I couldn’t be seen riding round on a heap of shit!
I found a sexy little Activa (lets be honest, I can’t ride anything else) with blue, purple and yellow sticker on it. A steal at 250 INR per day, so I paid the deposit and gave them Sandi's details as I do not own a license. Despite this, they allowed me to fill up and ride off with her, back to the Holiday Inn which was about 30 feet away - Bad Ass...
Sandi woke, we ate a fairly shit breakfast at the Inn and hit the road, bound for Radhanagar Beach on the other side of the island (voted best beach in all of Asia by Time magazine btw).
Well needless to say we didn’t make it to Radhanager beach on the first attempt. As I saw it, this was down to a combination of three key factors:
Sandi woke, we ate a fairly shit breakfast at the Inn and hit the road, bound for Radhanagar Beach on the other side of the island (voted best beach in all of Asia by Time magazine btw).
Well needless to say we didn’t make it to Radhanager beach on the first attempt. As I saw it, this was down to a combination of three key factors:
- My navigational skills were ever so slightly below par. Which is surprising really as there are only two roads on the whole island. One that goes down the length and one that goes across. My theory was that if it’s just one road that goes to the beach then keep going down the road and eventually you will see the beach. Not strictly true as there was a small fork about 2-3k down the road that I dismissed in an 'I know where I’m going' kind of way...
- The roads were subprime (potholes, gravelly bits etc.). In places, I would argue, you could not even describe them as roads
- The bike was shit.
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| lost... on a shit bike |
Ok, so I fucked up... the bike was an absolute nail. After a fairly dangerous half an hour or so on the road with the beast, my amateur assessment of the issues are as follows:
When we arrived in a farmer’s field, we realised it was a lost cause. After being chastised for renting such a shit bike, I turned us around and we made our way, very slowly, back to base...
- Brake - doesn’t work
- Steering - no problem as long as you are turning right
- Back wheel - makes a sound I would associate with a cat with a megaphone being raped
When we arrived in a farmer’s field, we realised it was a lost cause. After being chastised for renting such a shit bike, I turned us around and we made our way, very slowly, back to base...
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| Sexy Bitches - Sandi and The Pleasure |
We got back to base and realised that the beach camp we were staying at rented brand new scooters for the same price. I had actually walked past them on my way to get a scooter in the morning... twat.
So we rented a new scooter 'the pleasure'. The next task was to get the fuel from our old bike before we took it back. I had a word with the guys from reception and they grabbed some hose, newspaper and a bottle...
So we rented a new scooter 'the pleasure'. The next task was to get the fuel from our old bike before we took it back. I had a word with the guys from reception and they grabbed some hose, newspaper and a bottle...
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| Anything you can do.... |
Sandi had not witnessed siphoning of petrol before, which surprised me as she is from Coventry. I had witnessed it in my youf in the Nock but never actually done it before. The reception guy got it going and did the first few bottles... Sandi was impressed... so it was only a matter of time before Billy Big Bollocks over here decided to step up the plate and give it a bash...
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| I can do more dangerously |
All in all, I did a pretty good job...only I didn’t realise that after blowing into the fuel tank, you are not supposed to suck back before removing your mouth... I took a blast of what I would affectionately describe as warm fumes, which burned like a motherfucker but delivered a surprisingly decent high...
We finished siphoning the fuel and took the piece of shit excuse for a vehicle that I had rented, back to the shop and we were ready for round two....
We finished siphoning the fuel and took the piece of shit excuse for a vehicle that I had rented, back to the shop and we were ready for round two....
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| Radhanagar Beach |
This time, we had a decent bike and the navigational learning’s from our previous attempt and things went much better. We got to the beach and headed to Rohit's cafe for a Samosa.
A good Samosa to be fair but the reason we loved the place and returned there most days for the rest of the week was not the Samosas. Nor was it, the vigilante mosquitoes that chewed on our calves as we ate... no, it was actually the incredible level of service that the owner, this littile old chap (that I thought looked like Ghandi with a bit more hair and no glasses) delivered. We walked in and ordered two samosas, he delivered the two samosas and followed it up with initially 2 x free bananas.... after 10 minutes he came back with 2 x free butterscotch sweets.... about another 10 minutes he returned, this time with 2 x free Beedie (wierd cigarette type things...)
I think the entire bill came to about 30p which is a fair price to pay for the samosas. We dropped him a small tip at the end and he even attempted to give us the money back. There was no rip off to be had here, this guy genuinely loved running his little skanky cafe and making sure everyone was happy ... there are not enough people in the world like Rohit. We repeated this experience more or less daily for the rest of the week.
I think the entire bill came to about 30p which is a fair price to pay for the samosas. We dropped him a small tip at the end and he even attempted to give us the money back. There was no rip off to be had here, this guy genuinely loved running his little skanky cafe and making sure everyone was happy ... there are not enough people in the world like Rohit. We repeated this experience more or less daily for the rest of the week.
Whilst we were in Rohits' we got talking to a couple of guys that we recognised from our camp. I’m pretty sure the conversation started off about Tony the cock but moved on to the jungle trek they did and they showed us the machete they had bought. They showed us a photo they had taken that morning of a King Cobra win the forest. Sold, 100%, it was on ... the macho male thing kicked in and I immediately started fantasising about the machete. I had to get one, it had to be bigger than his.
We left the guys, went to a bar for a couple of beers and then to the beach which was incredible..
The beach was huge, with white sand, gorgeous warm water and big waves. There were hardly any other people there so we more or less had the place to ourselves...
Sandi and I, being fundamentally child like, spent most of the afternoon in the sea, essentially throwing ourselves and each other into the crashing waves to see if we could stay on our feet... It was easily the most fun I'd had in ages...In the evening, we went to Island Vinnie’s, a diving camp with an awesome restaurant called the Full Moon Cafe. The food was probably cost no more than in Mumbai but utterly amazing and sooo fresh... Vinnie’s became our place to eat almost every night of the trip thereafter... only downside was that they didn’t serve any booze as they had lost their license at the time... no biggie though.
I can’t actually recall in what order the next couple of days went but we did one day of jungle trekking and a day of scuba diving.
I can’t actually recall in what order the next couple of days went but we did one day of jungle trekking and a day of scuba diving.
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| Shirley |
We took the advice of the guys from Rohit's and decided to take on the jungle trek to Elephant beach which is a private beach you can only get to by going through the jungle.
First, I needed some weaponry so the night before, we went to the village market and I bought myself a real beast ... I called her Shirley.
First, I needed some weaponry so the night before, we went to the village market and I bought myself a real beast ... I called her Shirley.
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| Primark Dundee |
The next day, we took The Pleasure as far as she could go, to where the dirt track went up into the trees and no vehicle could reach. We started hiking and eventually came across some swap like terrain that we had to cross... for the record, we were wearing this season's Crocs that Sandi has bought us for the trip. Yes, that’s right - his and hers matching Crocs (different colours of course, we’re not that sad...) We ambled over the swamp and up to the edge of the thick forest where we started to pick up Elephant tracks.... we followed the tracks through the trees in the general direction of Elephant beach.
The jungle was a real feast for the senses... It was hot, humid and surprisingly loud... there were so many sounds, it was almost impossible to pick them out. There were definitely snakes out there but I had my machete and fancied my chances of bagging us a King Cobra for dinner...
The jungle was a real feast for the senses... It was hot, humid and surprisingly loud... there were so many sounds, it was almost impossible to pick them out. There were definitely snakes out there but I had my machete and fancied my chances of bagging us a King Cobra for dinner...
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| Gordon Gecko |
I would occasionally throw the machete into a tree to show Sandi how manly I was and demonstrate the technique by which I intended to despatch any would-be woodland predators...she wasn’t impressed but I didn’t care, I was Havelock’s very own Mick Dundee...
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| Bud Fox |
Well needless to say, two hours later we had made it all the way to Elephant beach and back without seeing a single deadly animal or even an Elephant!! I was a little gutted but not to worry, we did see shit loads of Geckos (including Gordon and Bud Fox featured here) and a few other random lizards ... the whole thing was still an amazing experience!
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| Jonathan and Sandi |
Our scuba day was also incredible. We didn’t think we would be able to dive together on the same boat as the dive centre wanted to me to go with the qualified divers and Sandi with a separate group... We eventually sorted it so that Sandi would join a class of three other beginners who were going out with the instructors to do introductory dives and they let me tag along to dive with them.
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| T minus 3 seconds... |
The dive boats were brilliant - slim wooden Balinese style boats that you roll backwards off into the water... really cool but the downside is that there is no shelter from the sun and I burned pretty badly over the course of the day...
Now Sandi has dived a few times before so was easily the most experienced out of the class. Having said that, she did her shit herself a bit for the first 20 mins - whilst at waist height!!
I may have played a small part in that by pissing about whith the jellyfish and talking about the saltwater crocodile attack that happened a year or so ago on the island...
As soon as we got under though, all the way down to 12 meters, she didn’t bat an eyelid and loved every minute... the other beginners bottled the second dive and didn’t go in so it was just me and Sand with the instructor Jonathan ...I swear I will convince her to do the course and travel the world diving with me one day...
There was plenty of marine life, although the coral was pretty damaged from bleaching which was a shame...
We saw loads of Groupers, Angelfish etc.. The cool stuff included; Ghost Pipefish, a baby Wrasse, an awesome Lionfish and of course, there is always a few obligatory clownfish.
My underwater photography skills on the day left a bit to be desired as far as the big stuff but I did manage to bag a few decent shots.
Strangely enough, my favourite of the entire day was actually taken when we were swimming through a shoal of pink jellyfish... unlike the ones that used to fuck up our childhood holidays, these ones don’t sting at all and are so beautiful to watch gliding through the water....
We pretty much spent the rest of our time on Havelock relaxing to the absolute maximum and living what i would call 'island life' ....To be honest, some of the days it felt like we were shooting an advert for Lilt or Malibu or something... (i know what your thinking - sexy bastard... you're right of course)
We rode The Pleasure all over the island, through sunshine and torrential tropical downpours.
Down every dirt track we seemd to find incredible deserted beaches and we lay around under the palm trees for hours on end...
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| Sunset over Havelock |
Put simply, complete and utter paradise!... the best place I have ever been to.
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| Flob watch - She was getting more Indian by the day |
So to wrap things up this week, I'll leave you with the second most memorable story from our trip to Andaman and Nicobar... (there were one or two other events of note but you will have to wait a little for those..)
I’m not sure which night it was but I recall that I was sunburned from the daytime. In Sandi's eyes the burn was pretty bad, in my eyes it was just an off-tan colour and was more like brown than red. In hindsight, I may have been a little burnt as my subsequent actions had all the hallmarks of sunstroke...
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| Bronzed Adonis or Jackie Stallone? |
It was about 10pm-ish when we finally decided to grab The Pleasure and head out to pick up food. On the way out of the lane onto the island road, we bumped into a few of our friends from the camp who were with Tony the Cock and his son, also called Tony and about our age... This was actually the last time that we would refer to Tony (snr) as a cock, for something was about to happen that etched Tony into the holiday history books forever, as something entirely different....
We are standing chatting with them all for a few minutes when suddenly, a young local boy, about maybe 6 years old, comes running out of one of the workers huts, stark bollock naked other than a silver coloured necklace around his waist... He runs straight up to Tony, grabs his hand and starts shouting 'Mr. Tony, Mr. Tony!!'... Tony goes as white as a sheet and tries to walk away but the kid is dancing around him, hanging onto him and gleefully shouting his name over and over...
We all look at the boy, we look at Tony, we look at each other.... what the fuck..? How could this boy know Tony’s name? Why was he naked? What the hell was the S&M chain around his waist? ..
It was obvious we were all thinking the same thing... utter nonce.
Now the next thing that happened, given the gravitas of the situation, shows the all round maturity of the group, myself and Sandi included... we all (possibly with the exception of his son who was clearly, and understandably embarassed at the suggestion that his dad was a kiddie fiddler) started pissing ourselves and pointing!
Tony starts getting angry as it’s fairly obvious that everyone thinks he’s a sex tourist... he picks up the pace and scarpers off sheepishly... I don’t think we actually saw Tony again on the trip but from that point forward, he was universally referred to as Tony the Tourist.
So I was out in Delhi over the weekend doing some sightseeing with Dan Casey. We were astounded to see a child out for the day with his family wearing an anti-paedo T-shirt. It seems that Tony’s reputation precedes him (or they knew Casey was in town for the weekend) ... either way, absolute gold...
I'll try and do another blog entry later this week to fill you in on all the other tales from our Bank Holiday trip to Delhi and Agra...
Until then, remember, NO MEANS NO!!!
Speak soon,
Gray
