If it is the responsibility of a blogger to report what’s on his mind then today’s post will have to focus on blisters, insect bites, flip flops and cut throat razors . . . . .
Kovalam is a beautiful spot on the Kerala coast having three bays, a lighthouse and lots of shops selling clothes, jewellery, Ayurvedic remedies, food, fruit, CDs, trinkets, yoga mats, Ayurvedic massages, posters, currency exchange, tourist maps, shoes, and lots more besides.
The day started by Sofia the pharmacist (every travel group should have one) saying that antihistamine tablets would help get my insect bites down so I tagged along with her, and Helen and Tracey, in search of the pharmacy. We found several pharmacies but only Ayurvedic ones which do not use the traditional prescription drugs. I was advised that I could use an Ayurvedic powder if I mixed it with either buttermilk or curd until it was a paste. I politely explained I was on holiday and would not be spending time doing this, and the bites were only an inconvenience, so we moved on.
Before this, at the start of the day the blister on my left heel was the size of a small coconut and preventing me from wearing my normal sandals. I was limping along in bare feet, which is fine on the cool floor of the hotel where there’s a ceiling fan, shade, and an air conditioning unit keeping the temperature cold enough to store ice cream in your wardrobe, but as soon as you step onto the sun baked pavements the soles of your feet begin to burn.
The obvious answer was flip-flops . . . . .
As we set off from the hotel I purchased a top-of-the-range pair of Nike flip flops. Although I tried to negotiate down from £6, the seller obviously saw I was not in a strong bargaining position so we settled on a fiver.
Why do people wear flip flops? Or more to the point, how do people wear flip flops? People who can wear them effortlessly are obviously from another planet to mine, the one where people drink hot milk and don’t eat curry.
The piece of plastic that separates the big toe from the next toe might seem round and comfortable when you try them on but after 50 yards it resembles a piece of cheese wire. It's like flossing your feet and it's not a good sensation.
After twenty minutes I am faced with the choice of sliding my feet back towards the heel of the 'shoe' to avoid the new pain in between the toes, and risk falling flat on my face whilst the heel flops about like a flag in a Force 9 gale, or pushing my feet forwards, intensifying the pain but feeling more stable.
Eventually I stumbled on a loose paving stone and stubbed my toe. I carried on walking then saw the blood flowing onto the flip flop - a long (but not deep) cut was a bit painful so I hobbled to the hotel where I met the guy who sold me the flip flops.
Here is a picture of the flip flops which will never see England.
By the way, these entrepreneurs are very observant and they never forget a paying customer. As we shook hands he glanced down to admire his products and immediately saw my predicament:
"Oh dear, what has happened? Can I wash it for you?
Do you want to buy some smaller ones as well?"
These people are to be admired.
Most conversations with them end with "Maybe tomorrow" and the more insistent get "I have no room in my suitcase" or "I am on the way to get some money" but sometimes their invitation is accepted and we stroke, feel, measure, cogitate, prevaricate, procrastinate then negotiate.
All interactions, whether they involve the transfer of funds or not, end in "Nani" (thank you) and/or "Namaskar".
Sometimes they don't even try to sell you anything but just tell you their life history in one of the 4 languages most of them speak - they constantly impress and amaze me. Here are somke who sold me some products which must remain a secret until my return:
After a lunch of aloo bondha (deep fried spicy mashed potato) and a Beach Mix for lunch I returned to the hotel to finish my book and rest the foot.
(You can make a Beach Mix at home really easily - take one tall glass, fill one third with orange juice, another third with pineapple juice (ratio and flavour could be varied to your own taste) then fill the final third with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Eat with a straw and a spoon - delicious!)
At 5 o'clock I did my pranayama and asana practice then decided to get my hair cut as it's grown very quickly in India and I was starting to look like an umpa lumpa man.
I had a vague idea where the barber's shop was but it was in the back alleys so I had to ask for directions a couple of times before I found the empty shop. A man in the restaurant next door phoned him and he turned up 10 minutes later. We agreed a price for the haircut, which I didn't question as there were lots of cut throat razors lying around the place, and he cut my hair.
At some point Saffi (we were the best of friends by now) remarked that I needed a shave and I agreed, thinking I would be shaving before going out to eat later, then suddenly the seat was tipped back and the razors made an appearance. So I had a proper shave as well - smooth as the proverbial baby's backside.
"Sir, if you have ten or fifteen minutes I can give you very nice head massage, and face massage, with face pack."
We were now in the territory of pennies and pounds so I agreed and he massaged and pummelled and applied a face pack which he left on me for about five minutes. It felt like someone has smeared hot chilli sauce over my cheeks but in a pleasant way. All over, job done, new price agreed - £8 the lot.
I will post a picture of me when I get one but here's one of Saffi.
That's your lot tonight although I had a very nice vegetable biryani for dinner and I was showing Saffi's picture on my camera and the waiter laughed and said he was his friend!
Namaste!
Kovalam is a beautiful spot on the Kerala coast having three bays, a lighthouse and lots of shops selling clothes, jewellery, Ayurvedic remedies, food, fruit, CDs, trinkets, yoga mats, Ayurvedic massages, posters, currency exchange, tourist maps, shoes, and lots more besides.
The day started by Sofia the pharmacist (every travel group should have one) saying that antihistamine tablets would help get my insect bites down so I tagged along with her, and Helen and Tracey, in search of the pharmacy. We found several pharmacies but only Ayurvedic ones which do not use the traditional prescription drugs. I was advised that I could use an Ayurvedic powder if I mixed it with either buttermilk or curd until it was a paste. I politely explained I was on holiday and would not be spending time doing this, and the bites were only an inconvenience, so we moved on.
Before this, at the start of the day the blister on my left heel was the size of a small coconut and preventing me from wearing my normal sandals. I was limping along in bare feet, which is fine on the cool floor of the hotel where there’s a ceiling fan, shade, and an air conditioning unit keeping the temperature cold enough to store ice cream in your wardrobe, but as soon as you step onto the sun baked pavements the soles of your feet begin to burn.
The obvious answer was flip-flops . . . . .
As we set off from the hotel I purchased a top-of-the-range pair of Nike flip flops. Although I tried to negotiate down from £6, the seller obviously saw I was not in a strong bargaining position so we settled on a fiver.
Why do people wear flip flops? Or more to the point, how do people wear flip flops? People who can wear them effortlessly are obviously from another planet to mine, the one where people drink hot milk and don’t eat curry.
The piece of plastic that separates the big toe from the next toe might seem round and comfortable when you try them on but after 50 yards it resembles a piece of cheese wire. It's like flossing your feet and it's not a good sensation.
After twenty minutes I am faced with the choice of sliding my feet back towards the heel of the 'shoe' to avoid the new pain in between the toes, and risk falling flat on my face whilst the heel flops about like a flag in a Force 9 gale, or pushing my feet forwards, intensifying the pain but feeling more stable.
Eventually I stumbled on a loose paving stone and stubbed my toe. I carried on walking then saw the blood flowing onto the flip flop - a long (but not deep) cut was a bit painful so I hobbled to the hotel where I met the guy who sold me the flip flops.
Here is a picture of the flip flops which will never see England.
"Oh dear, what has happened? Can I wash it for you?
Do you want to buy some smaller ones as well?"
These people are to be admired.
Most conversations with them end with "Maybe tomorrow" and the more insistent get "I have no room in my suitcase" or "I am on the way to get some money" but sometimes their invitation is accepted and we stroke, feel, measure, cogitate, prevaricate, procrastinate then negotiate.
All interactions, whether they involve the transfer of funds or not, end in "Nani" (thank you) and/or "Namaskar".
Sometimes they don't even try to sell you anything but just tell you their life history in one of the 4 languages most of them speak - they constantly impress and amaze me. Here are somke who sold me some products which must remain a secret until my return:
(You can make a Beach Mix at home really easily - take one tall glass, fill one third with orange juice, another third with pineapple juice (ratio and flavour could be varied to your own taste) then fill the final third with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Eat with a straw and a spoon - delicious!)
At 5 o'clock I did my pranayama and asana practice then decided to get my hair cut as it's grown very quickly in India and I was starting to look like an umpa lumpa man.
I had a vague idea where the barber's shop was but it was in the back alleys so I had to ask for directions a couple of times before I found the empty shop. A man in the restaurant next door phoned him and he turned up 10 minutes later. We agreed a price for the haircut, which I didn't question as there were lots of cut throat razors lying around the place, and he cut my hair.
At some point Saffi (we were the best of friends by now) remarked that I needed a shave and I agreed, thinking I would be shaving before going out to eat later, then suddenly the seat was tipped back and the razors made an appearance. So I had a proper shave as well - smooth as the proverbial baby's backside.
"Sir, if you have ten or fifteen minutes I can give you very nice head massage, and face massage, with face pack."
We were now in the territory of pennies and pounds so I agreed and he massaged and pummelled and applied a face pack which he left on me for about five minutes. It felt like someone has smeared hot chilli sauce over my cheeks but in a pleasant way. All over, job done, new price agreed - £8 the lot.
I will post a picture of me when I get one but here's one of Saffi.
Namaste!
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