CHENNAI
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED
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I start with "This is what happened" because what we plan often changes. By the time I get to fill in these pages, which set out the outline of our trip, with what we ACTUALLY did it can be a million miles from what we thought (or hoped) we were going to do, mainly as a result of last minute better ideas popping up.
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If you've just read THE PLANNING PROCESS you will already know the plan is in shreds.
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AT LEAST WE STILL FLEW TO INDIA
The first part of the plan survived. We made it to CHENNAI (or MADRAS in old money). A superb two-leg flight with Qatar Airways in their top of the range Business Class (yes, expensive, but apparently worth every penny, according to my travel buddy. The logic is that its an f'ing long way and so how much better to positively look forward to the trip out (and conversely, also back) rather than see it as a drag).
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Early start simply in order to pig out in the business class lounge, which we duly did. On walking out the door of home at 03.30 and -3 degrees we had the normal sartorial issues of whether to wear 'freezing appropriate' clobber and enjoy lugging a sheepskin coat around the boiling Indian sub-continent for seven weeks, OR, braveheart it. We both basically wore our best T shirt and jeans, and shivered.​​​​
Great flight of 6 hours to Dohar for a brief stop. Another 5 hours to Chennai. Wafted onto both planes, almost carried baby-style by the staff, fed and watered in luxury, arrive in style at Chennai at 03.00. A potentially stressful hour at least waiting for our luggage. Good old Apple Tags, they reassured us that despite our luggage being almost the last off we knew the bags were at least in the same airport as us. Saves much nail biting anticipation of lost Marmite (yup, always pack a big jar!).
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Out of arrivals to meet our chauffeur driven limo from our first hotel (Leela Palace, 5 star, blame Sara, she loves a calm reassuring start in order to acclimatise, a snip at £120 a night). No welcoming sign. No f'ing car. So at 04.00 we grab what we can which turned out to be a taxi loon, what were the chances? Straight through red lights, hooting at his phone, high speed corners, the welcoming works, Sara hooting too, not joining in, just hooting or was it wailing.
At least our hotel was lovely, once we screeched into the drive and tumbled out of the loons taxi.......
In the video on the right you can hear the hotel's amazing Muzak (lift music, elevator music, apparently only Boomers know the term 'Muzak', amazing, you'll be telling me under 50's don't know what Spangles are next). By the way all vids on this site have a VOLUME button bottom right of the frame, click to hear.
DAY 1 was spent chilling around the pool, defrosting from the British winter, and booking tours for the following day. A day tour of 6 hours seeing the sights, and a night tour of walking in the markets of 2 hours,
A TOWN WITH ABSOLUITELY NO BEER
Beer, or the lack of it, is going to be a recurring theme on this trip! DAY 2: Up early and picked up by our private guide and driver, we paid extra not to share our day tour with a bunch of foreigners, saves the angst of standing still for hours while the guide says the same thing in five different languages. Great car, driver and guide, no hooting, no screeching, also no traffic!!! Why? Because its PONGAL you fool. Pongal, 4 days public holiday, harvest festival in Tamil Nadu, everything shuts (I'm even typing this in our room on Day 3 as the government declared a DRY day, bastards. We found out at 22.00 yesterday and immediately ordered in a massive stock of beer to the room. I say we, it was mainly ME). The good news is the local beer, which is weirdly named, see pic, is a hefty 6%, hence my already blurred eyesight.
HAPPY PONGAL DAY TO YOU ALL
So we drive along public-holiday empty roads to our various rendezvous with sights of Chennai, most of which were shut. Thankfully. Sara and I agree on our policy toward tours. We tolerate the guides interminable description of a thousand gods, and their bowdlerised versions of history, delivered in impenetrable accents, but we don't actually give a toss if a museum is closed - SHAME on us!
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Our lovely guide Akil was bloody older than me - 78 the little fit monkey, made me look like a kiddie. Perfect English, very knowledgeable, bit miffed by our total disinterest in taking photos of the various government buildings we rolled up in front of. "You want photo?" No thanks Akil. "You sure. why not?" Because it will make a poxy and completely un-memorable shot - drive on my man! But a great tour none the less.
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The usual 'shop visit'. Lovely shop of my cousin, silks, carpets, gold, silver. No thanks Akil. "You sure, why not?" Because we only carry 15kg of luggage so even an extra 'waffer thin mint' would cause Sara's luggage to spontaneously explode is why.​
Can you believe it?? Some bastard mugged me for my shoes!!
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Actually we had to divest ourselves of footwear to walk bloody miles round this temple complex. My little tootsie-pegs hardly ever go naked in polite company, and it caused my subconscious some serious issues. It was both painful and alarming. Sara was so amused, and may I say, unsympathetic. There. I said it.
SHOE RELATED PTSD INCIDENT
I have no idea why psychologically an ex-army, control freaky, highly strung, high functioning alcoholic might feel deeply weird when he has his shoes removed in broad daylight, in the middle of town, and forced to walk along a road dodging traffic. I just did.
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And I remained discombobulated until my poor feet were once again safely inside my lovely warm, soft Sketchers, SAFE from dogs, stones, verruca's, car tyres, passing tuk-tuks et al. I think I'd rather have been without my trousers - but that's me all over.
Anyway, feet back in safety, we were off to the beach, via several other reassuringly Pongal related closures of boring buildings we had no interest in. The beach is number 3 on the Chennai Top Ten, Marina Beach, tourist location. Review online "a rubbish tip with fishing boats and tenement blocks". That we liked!
Loads of character, Thousands of working fishing boats, piles and piles of nets, tons of fish and a massive fish market. Chopping up whole sharks, swordfish, right down to crabs and whelks, the works.
YOU GET WHAT YOU PAY FOR
We have worked out the 'Tripadviser (TA)' tours cost serious money, 'Get Your Guide (GYG)' tours are as cheap as chips. So off we go on our £10 GYG tour (saving £20 over TA). Young James was our guide. He gave us the wrong pick up location, he was 30 minutes late (he set off for a 7,00pm meet at about 7.00pm, despite it being a 30 minutes journey). The daft bastard had shared his location on WhatsApp with me so we watched his snail like progress in real time while sitting on a fence beside a busy duel carriageway in downtown Madras in the dark! No matter, a few harsh words got him on track and he took us to the real Chennai in the dark.
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Once on track (and bollocked) he was great, applying to be an Army Officer, moonlighting as a guide, big guy, knew the area well, which was lucky. In the packed side alleys and markets we went to we were the ONLY, ONLY, ONLY non Tamil folk. Literally. In two hours we did not see another tourist or even a foreign face, or even one white (or in my case pink) face. Even funnier, we kept being stopped for selfies. Really, people would stop Sara, and amazingly, even me, and ask us to pose with them. James (very Tamil name - not) explained that we were a sort of curiosity in this neck of the woods. On the very bright side not one sign of animosity, everyone super friendly. We sat in tea shops drinking chai, street food bars scoffing excellent grub, sweet shops mainlining neat sucrose, being nudged off the street by tuk-tuks and scooters who literally push into you. And James said it was quiet due to Pongal! Jesus, we were lucky, if this is quiet what is busy like????
TUK TUK RACING
Finally it was time for the 30 minute trip home. I was about to whistle up an Uber. No, Sara, who had panicked all the way iun from the airport had toughened up. It was going to be a Tuk-tuk! So small rickety death trap it was. Half an hour of screeching, braking at the last second, minor collisions, and screaming, me that is.
DAY 3 - Wednesday - Rest day. Planning day. I won't bore you with the reasons, which revolved round weather forecasts, runes, tarot cards, tea leaves examined, all by Mrs Henslow, the plans changed TOTALLY. Apparently the re was rain in Sri Lanka, but not in Kerela. So we were now NOT going to Sri Lanka by ferry to Jaffna. Nope. We are now going to drive 4 hours south to PONDICHERRY for a few days, then drive into the mainland to intercept the Chennai to Kollum (south Kerela) train for a 13 hour overnight to KERELA. A 360 degree change to the best laid plans of mice and men (me being the mice).
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So up early for our car and off we set for Pondicherry.