Backpacking

Solid Toiletries for Travel: Vegan Beauty Products for the Carry-On Backpacker

Solid Toiletries for Travel: Vegan Beauty Products for the Carry-On Backpacker

Sick of pouring all your liquids in to a series of 100ml bottles and hoping they didn’t run out? What if I said you never had to do that again! Here’s a fail-safe list of vegan solid toiletries for travel that won’t get confiscated at the carry-on x-ray machine.

What To Take Camping In Iceland

What To Take Camping In Iceland

Wondering what to take camping in Iceland? You’re not alone! I’m from sunny Australia, and I know I’ve said it before, but we just don’t do cold. So when I decided to camp around the fjords in the arctic circle, I had absolutely no idea what kind of stuff to take to keep myself warm and dry, and started researching like crazy to gather an assortment of stuff to keep myself alive and happy on the Ring Road.

How To Travel And Not Gain Weight (Without Working Out!)

How To Travel And Not Gain Weight (Without Working Out!)

If you’ve been told putting on weight is just part of travelling, think again! It is actually possible to remain more or less the same size throughout your trip and save money, and I’m here to tell you how because, in all honesty, I'm a veteran of piling it on while in travel-mode and I successfully figured out how to travel and not gain weight. 

Navigating Tallinn...

Navigating Tallinn...

I was really excited at the prospect of entering Tallinn, so I don't want to be a wet blanket and rain on my own parade or anything, but if I'm being really honest, I'd have to say navigating the Estonian public transport system at 7am after a 16-hour bus ride from Poland was not something I enjoyed doing. And I enjoy most challenges.

7 Travel Apps That Are Actually Useful

7 Travel Apps That Are Actually Useful

When I left for Europe, the only travel app I had was Appy Hour – the app that tells you where and when the best happy hour deals are on in Reykjavik. By the time I got home, I had a whole pile of apps given to me by other travellers – apps I’m not sure how I lived without.

4 Reasons To Avoid Koh Rong (and where to go instead)

Even if you're not a traveller, the islands of South East Asia are probably on your bucket list.


The sands are white, the waters are clear, warm and blue, you can dive in the reefs, stay in bungalows, eat local food, lay on the sand, and drink cheap cocktails – anyone who's been to a Thai island will probably recommend it.

Before I begin my tirade in to why you should probably avoid Koh Rong in Cambodia, I should mention that the island does look lovely on face value – the waters are clear, the sands are white, and the beach huts are wooden and picturesque and really nice to sit in, but on the other hand, the island is basically inhabited by tourists.

I'm not really sure why, but I thought Koh Rong would be like a Thai island, and it really wasn't. It was kind of grimy.

If you're in to drinking all day, everyday, you don't care what you eat, and you're not fussed over things like hygiene, you'll probably love Koh Rong – lots of people do, and that's great! I think we were there over some sort of holiday, and one of the festive activities involved drunkenly clawing your way up a greased-up metal pole to reach some cash. If that's what you're in to, stop reading and buy a ticket immediately! For everyone else, here's a bunch of reasons to avoid Koh Rong.
 

1. Extreme Tourism

I'm not usually someone who cares about 'touristy' spots while travelling (it seems weird to me that some people seem to hate 'touristy' locations when they're tourists themselves...), but in Koh Rong, you can't really walk around and get a taste of local culture because almost everything there exists for tourists. Drunk, sexed-up tourists.
 

2. Expensive Accommodation

Given how ramshackled the place is (not in an endearing way), accommodation is way more expensive than it needs to be. We're talking big cracks in the walls of bungalows, a lack of mosquito netting (don't care about mosquitoes? Here's why you should!), and just a general lack of basic cleanliness – all this would be fine if it was cheaper, but it ended up costing more than anywhere else we stayed.
 

3. The Food Is Terrible

If you're in to Khmer food, definitely avoid Koh Rong. All the food joints are run by drunk and/or stoned tourists who (largely) can't cook. If you want local food, forget it – the menus are full of sandwiches and pizzas, and they're greasy enough to put you off bread for life. If you come across somewhere selling 'fresh' fish, you'll get something that's been fried within an inch of its life by one of the aforementioned tourists.
 

4. Contagion 

This one is based on personal experience, but after a day or so we noticed the staff at all the hostels and food joints had some kind of infection. They all had a bandaged arm or ankle, and we overheard someone talking about how contagious it was. There was also a human who seemed to have the same skin disease as some of the wild dogs.

So what do you have once you look beyond the accommodation, the food, everyone else who's there, and lack of local culture? A nice beach and not much else.

By the end of three-days, we couldn't wait to get off the island.
 

If you want to travel to the beaches of Cambodia, I recommend Sihanoukville. If you ignore all the drunk tourists and onslaught of Australians screaming "Koh Rong? More like Koh Right!" in the most ocker accents you've ever heard in your life, and look at the actual beach, it's really quite lovely. Plus, the food is great.

Alternatively, if you're looking for some peace, head to Otres Beach. It's very close to Sihanoukville, but it's the complete opposite – calm, serene, and underpopulated. We spent about five days going to each of the 10 or so cafes and restaurants along the beach, and sat there for hours while I worked online and tried to detox from all the beer we'd been drinking.

If you're looking for actual relaxation, avoid Koh Rong and head to Otres – that's where it's at.


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Trains In India: Living The Unreserved Dream

Trains In India: Living The Unreserved Dream

I think our lowest point was on the way to Kolkata from Darjeeling. We booked beds on the train in one of the nicer classes (AC3) for the 13-hour overnight journey (find out how to book trains here). We were number eight and nine on the waiting list, which isn't as bad a plan as it sounds.

Siem Reap to Ban Lung: A Tale of Too Many Buses

I've never been scammed like I was in Cambodia.


To be fair, I don't mind paying more at markets and things like that – what's a small amount of money to me can be a lot to someone else, so I'm ok with it, as long as the price isn't exorbitant. What I'm not fine with is being lied to and totally screwed over. If I learnt anything about getting around Cambodia, it was to double-check all transport-related information. 

Our trip to Ban Lung was probably the icing on the cake.

There's a lake in Ban Lung that's so round and deep it was supposedly formed by a meteorite years and years ago, so naturally, we really wanted to see it. Mistake number one was going to any old travel agency in Siem Reap.

In India, you can walk in to the sketchiest looking place and book a bus or train that will leave from where they say, when they say. This does not happen in Cambodia.

They said we would be on a big bus (not an over-populated minibus) with air-con, and the whole trip would take five hours. We got on a large bus the next day that had air-con, and a few mosquitoes flying around, and proceeded to travel south instead of east.

The powers-that-be only seemed to understand English when it suited them, so we gave up asking where we were going after a while, realised there was really nothing we could do, and sat there for five-hours travelling in the wrong direction. We were eventually left with a few other tourists at a road-side eatery (in Krong Kampong Chnang, wherever that is) and basically told to shut up and eat some fish soup for an hour while a mini bus came and got us.

It was on this minibus that we discovered we were the only ones going to Ban Lung, and all other tourists were going to Laos. The people in charge told us we would be heading north again, and given that Laos is north from where we were, it seemed pretty likely that's where we were going. Our luggage was strapped to the back of the van (despite everyone's protests), and off we went for another seven hours.

Before and after: Bags en route to Ban Lung, Cambodia

Before and after: Bags en route to Ban Lung, Cambodia

When it got dark, the drivers (who could now miraculously speak English) piped up and said they hadn't been instructed to go to Laos or Ban Lung, and stopped in Stueng Traeng where there was a hotel owner conveniently waiting to take people to his hotel. While everyone else went with him, Chris and I refused, and went to find our own hotel up the road after being assured there would be a bus to take us to Ban Lung the next day. 

By this point, we were pretty annoyed. Paying higher prices at a market, for transport or hotels is to be expected, but dealing with two-days of unplanned travel and total uncertainty in a foreign country when no one will give you any information is completely different.

After a lot of questioning, the bus driver's eventually gave us the name of the man who orchestrates these operations (Jed), put him on the phone, and Jed hung up immediately. We were very close to calling off the rest of the trip to look for him and bring justice to tourists everywhere. 

The bus did show up the next day (albeit three-hours after it was supposed to), and we arrived in Ban Lung three-hours later. What should have been a five-hours morning trip turned in to a 15-hours odyssey spanning two-days. Wherever Jed is, I'm pretty sure he has more money than I'll ever have in my life.


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Experiencing Angkor: What Not To Do

As much as I wanted Angkor to be a highlight, I really didn't feel that way at the time. It's a must-see place and I'm so glad I went, but I do not recommend seeing it the way we did. It’s suggested that you see the temples over five days. We did it in two. We also decided to rent bicycles for $4/day instead of paying $25 to get chauffeured around for the day. Unless you're a pro-cyclist who maybe does it in tropical climates all day, every day, always take the chauffeur. 

I hadn't ridden a bike in years, and I don't think we really thought about how far it really is around those temples – it's not just Angkor Wat, it's basically a city full of temples and monuments that are all kilometres apart. There's no shade, and at that time of year there's no escaping the heat and humidity. I calculated we'd ridden about 48km on day one. It's about 8km from Siem Reap to Angkor, so you've been going for quite a while before you've even seen a temple.

At that point in time (before I got sick), I had never been in such muscular pain in my life, so when Chris decided he desperately needed to get to Angkor Wat at 5am the next day to see the sun rise, I nearly cried.

Angkor.jpg

It was a morning of misery and woe. I don’t know why we didn’t get a chauffeur for the second day – possibly because we figured we’d already biked the first half so we could do it again. My legs were still burning from the previous day, I was having trouble standing upright, and even at 5am, the humidity was unrelenting. We visited where Tomb Raider was filmed and ogled at everything for another 45km, before arriving back at about 5pm and feeling excruciatingly happy it was over.

I think the worst thing about being so outrageously hot you want to fall in a heap and waste away slowly is that all the locals are dressed from head to toe in jeans, turtlenecks, jumpers, jackets, scarves and hats. The few we spoke to said it’s to keep their skin white (even though they’re in so many layers no one would ever know), but they weren’t sweating or anything. I was a burning red mess.

After that experience, I think I have to go again, but maybe in January next time. The heat and humidity really killed it for me – I can't explain how all-consuming it is, but unless you're from SE Asia, somewhere near the equator, or you just love the heat, I really don't recommend visiting after February. If you want to know when to go, check out my Cambodia Travel Guide.


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Backpacking India: What I Did In Three Weeks

Three weeks backpacking India...

Aaaand...

GO!

From Kanyakumari we finally moved out of Tamil Nadu and in to Kerala: the land of many beaches. The beaches are picturesque, the beer is flowing, the water is warm, and that all would have been great if I wasn't sick, but it was great nonetheless.

Kovalam, Kerala India
Kovalam, Kerala India

We stayed there for two-days sipping juice in this massive (massively cheap) two-room apartment, staring at the beach while eating fish, before catching the bus to Alleppey: houseboat land.

A valid attempt to get on a houseboat was made, but at the end of the day it was 6,000 rupees for one night on a boat, or 6,000 rupees for six-nights elsewhere, so after speaking to some French tourists at our hotel (Cherukara Nest: I highly recommend it), we did a canoe tour of the famed Kerala backwaters instead, which is organised by Cherukara Nest.

The tour involved breakfast and lunch at a family home containing possibly the most confident, intelligent, and forth coming 11-year-old I’ve ever met. Sanjeev aspires to be a women’s Ayurvedic doctor, likes to sing, and has spent the last seven-years speaking to tourists and subsequently learning nine languages.

Allepey, India
Allepey, India

Straight after the canoe tour we were on a bus to Fort Kochi: a small fishing town full of home stays and Christian festivals. Our main introduction to Kochi involved being stuck in a bus behind two giant parades, and witnessing many religious celebrations in brightly-lit churches on the side of the road, which seemed to attract hundreds.

It was here that we stayed with two Swiss girls (who had crazy eyes – crazy eyes are a thing, and they had them), saw giant Chinese fishing nets, and had a truly amazing curry while being eaten to death by mosquitoes.

Kochi, India
Kochi, India

I bought a skirt, we saw a traditional Indian dance, then got on a ‘semi-sleeper’ bus to Mysore at 11:30pm from the side of a highway. It was on this trip that I combated motion sickness with beers and Travelcalm (do it – you’ll sleep for hours), and woke up in what is said to be ‘the soul of the south’.

We saw the famous Palace, went to one of the nicest bazaars we’ve been to yet, I made a stellar stick of incense (“I’ve seen lots of tourists make incense, but never as good as you” – incense-making teacher guy, who totally doesn't say that to everyone), and we drank lots of beer while making important decisions about our trip.

We decided to catch a bus along a pothole-infested road for two-hours (I spent most of the trip in the air. I'm not joking.) to Bylakuppe, seeing the Buddhist Golden Temple (carrying 65L bags), then getting back on that bus to Kushalnagar (interestingly, the road conditions didn't change in those few hours, so again I spent it in the air), changing there for a bus to Hassan (road conditions still didn't improve), and changing there for a bus to Halebid where, again, we were really just paying for airspace because none of it was spent sitting down. We don’t make decisions with beer anymore.

Mysore, India
Mysore, India

Halebid: don’t get there at night. It’s a tiny, dusty town with not much in the way of streetlights, making it kind of terrifying to arrive in after dark. It’s only real claim to fame is the absolutely spectacular temple in the middle of town which makes it well worth the trip. It’s all made of soapstone, and was constructed using the locking method – without bonding materials like cement – and it’s still standing.

It’s by far the most intricately carved temple we’ve seen to date.

Bylakuppe Halebid India
Bylakuppe Halebid India

We then caught a bus back to Hassan (don’t sit at the back of the bus or you'll fly), an old lady told me my clothes were too revealing (I was wearing long sleeves…), we visited a tourist office for an hour trying to figure out how to get to Hampi, and took an impromptu trip to Bangalore: India’s technological capital.

We saw palaces, parks, forts, huge doors, went to a rooftop restaurant, looked around, drank $2.50 rum, ate like Maharajas, looked around some more, bought nothing, and got on an overnight train to Hampi with a very inquisitive family of three.

Bangalore, India
Bangalore, India

The father had been to the U.S and Europe so had an idea of the kind of place Australia might be (which was a refreshing experience), and told us about Hampi and various other places. The mother didn’t speak much English, the daughter (15?) apparently watched me sleep, and Hampi was lovely. It’s a tourist den, but a nice villagy one surrounded by hundreds of temples and monuments.

They said to see it all in three days. We did it in one. On a motorbike. 'Tired' doesn't even come close. “Climb the mountain with me,” Chris said. “It can be your birthday present to me”, he said.

So we climbed the mountain, met around 13 monkeys, Chris tried to scare the monkey away, the monkey stole my water bottle from Chris’s hand, the monkey started sizing Chris up, we retreated from that part of the mountain, fearless-monkey-passing-warrior-girl (or strange-and-oblivious-laughing-girl who didn't even notice the monkeys, depending on how you look at it) came down the mountain, we stashed away the remaining water bottle, gathered strength and fearlessly passed the monkeys to get to the temple on top of the mountain, watched the sunset from said mountain, climbed down mountain, and I rode a motorbike.

Hampi, India
Hampi, India

We met Bernadette and Mira – a mother and daughter from Switzerland, chatted to them for a while, ate the best vegetable paratha on planet Earth, and met them again at 5:30 the following morning on the train station en route to Goa – the trip that will forever be remembered as that time Chris’s birthday happened on a train.

He agrees it was a great experience full of late transport, train food vendors, seedy men, lukewarm chai, three-hour bus rides, and the worst samosas to date, but we got to beautiful Palolem to see the sunset and eat whole snapper by the water with $2.50 cocktails.

Palolem-1.jpg

We stayed in bungalows and wiled the day away with coffee, breakfast, clothes shopping, and hammocks, then left after two nights in an overnight ‘sleeper’ bus to Mumbai: Worst. Trip. Ever. The bus is set out like a set of double bunk beds in the bus, and we were on the upper level. Took Travelcalm too early, sans beer – bad idea.

Felt weirdly tired, out of it, and kind of drunk for the whole 15-hours, and Chris just couldn’t sleep. The roads weren’t great, so you’d wake up to find yourself in mid-air, knowing your back was going to hurt within seconds, and knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it. So we got off the bus feeling exhausted, and in the middle of nowhere.

Turns out the bus didn’t go all the way in to Mumbai, so taxis were conveniently placed at the ‘dropping point’ (the side of a highway) asking for extortionate prices to get into the city. All the hotels on our list were full and/or extremely expensive, so we spent about two-hours walking the streets of Mumbai with huge bags, trying to find a hotel.

Eventually we stumbled across one for 3,000 rupees/night, and decided we could only afford to stay in Mumbai for one night. Everything is supremely expensive in that city. Beautiful, but expensive.

It’s full of old gothic architecture from the days of the British Raj – walking through the city is like stepping through time. We had breakfast/lunch in a cafe swarming with tourists. We were seated up the back in front of a mirror lining the entire back wall – a mirror which we soon noticed had an enormous bullet hole. Turns out we were in Leopolds – a popular tourist den where the 2008 terrorist shoot-out occurred. People died. It was on the news. We sat there and chatted over coffee.

We then headed to the ‘Gateway of India’ where the monolithic Taj Palace Hotel stands looking out onto the horizon. We later found out that’s where the terrorist attacks begun, half the Taj was destroyed, hundreds of people died. That was on the news too. Despite all that, it is beautiful to look at, and they’ve since gone to town with the security.

We spent a large portion of the next morning in one of the many French patisseries Mumbai has to offer, eating cakes, scrambled eggs, and biscuits for Valentines Day, before I went into a shop looking for a descent punjabi to wear around, came out with a Kermit the Frog singlet from the menswear section, and headed off on the train to Aurangabad: the trip where Chris made many, many new friends.

Mumbai, India
Mumbai, India

While Indian people pronounce my name as ‘Salad’ without batting an eyelid, they have strange reactions to Chris, or ‘Krish’, as they pronounce it. These reactions range from mildly confused expressions, to loudly vocalising, “What a stupid name”. We originally thought it was because it’s an abbreviation of the Hindu god Krishna, but no. Chris’s train friends informed us ‘Krrish’ is actually an Indian superhero, with shoulder-length dark hair, and pale-ish skin – like Chris. Having a name like 'Krrish' is the Bollywood equivalent of having a name like 'Batman'. 

Nevertheless, the guys on the train were fascinated with him. Questions ranged from ‘what is your salary?’ to ‘how long do you bathe for?’, until half the carriage was watching in fascination, as Chris tried to go about explaining the value of the Australian dollar and why we're not all millionaires, and the duration of his showers.

India Train Trip
India Train Trip

We finally got to Aurangabad, stayed in a less-than-ok hotel, had what I'm pretty sure was the greatest thali ever, the biggest dosa known to human-kind, and visited 12th Century caves the next day in Ellora – a trip which is definitely worth doing. Like Hampi, there are a lot of carvings to see, but you actually can do them in about a day.

Aurangabad, India
Aurangabad, India

From there, we moved north to Udaipur. We were hoping to catch a train straight there, but no, the transport system doesn’t allow for that, so we caught a 14-hour overnight bus to Ahmedabad. Got there at 9:30am, had to catch a train from there to Updaipur at 11pm.

We would have explored Ahmedabad, but we were exhausted, and it took the auto rickshaw driver two-hours to figure out that he didn’t know where the student internet cafe we wanted to go to was, so we ended up at ‘Four Point’ – the very obliging fancy-pants hotel restaurant that let us sit there for 11-hours using power-points and internet. It was great.

After travelling almost everyday for so long, it was great to sit somewhere, order coffees, catch up on whatever was happening in the rest of the world (the Olympics are on?), and not have to rush off anywhere.

The food was also pretty fantastic, and their coffee came with biscuits. Win.

Ahmedabad, India
Ahmedabad, India

We got to the train station at about 10pm, found our platform, got on the train early to ensure no one took our seats (though the seating is ‘reserved’, it happens frequently), went to sleep and woke up freezing. Multiple times. Everyone else had blankets and we were jealous. We had jumpers, long sleeve things, and socks, but it wasn’t enough so we were just cold until we finally got to Udaipur at 9:30am.

Worth it.

We spent the day eating cake and looking at leather-bound notebooks, leather bags, shoes, jewellery, saris, and buying blankets and clothes (for the next train trip...), before going to this amazing Indian-fusion restaurant (vegan and gluten-free options are on the menu). We had Indian tacos, vegan curry with stuffed potato, garlic wheat chapattis, hyderbadi biryani, and beer. It was amazing. For the first time in two-days, we slept in a bed that wasn’t moving. Nukkad Guest House is the bomb – fork out for the rooms at the top, it's absolutely worth it.

Udaipur

Udaipur

Congrats on reading this far! You deserve some kind of medal.


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Kanyakumari: The Seas At The Edge Of India

After realising trains from Madurai to Kanyakumari only left at ridiculous hours of the morning, we visited Madurai's famous Meenakshi Amman Temple at 8pm the night before we left. It was beautifully-carved, with tiny rooms and alcoves where miniature deities stood decorated in fabric and trinkets, with Hindu's gathering around each one to give offerings and worship their gods.

It has been kind of amazing to see just how many Indian tourists are in Tamil Nadu – they come from miles around, with school groups or families, to see these ancient structures and pay tribute. Because they tend to travel for religious reasons, whenever we tell an Indian person we're visiting their country for the sake of tourism, they generally don't understand.

Q: "Why did you come to India?"
A: "We're interested n exploring the country."
Q: "But why did you come?"
A: "Tourism, that kind of thing."
Q: "Do you study here?"
A: "No."
Q: "You don't study here?"
A: "No."
Q: "So...what do you do?"

Tourism for the sake of tourism doesn't appear to be something Indians generally do on an international scale, but none of the functioning temples we've seen so far have any non-Indian tourists, so it was a bit of a surprise when we got to Meenakshi Amman to find a large (Swedish?) group, two Americans, and a few Spaniards. The American pair told us there was some amazing congregation happening at 9pm, so we stuck around, and sure enough, some amazing congregation happened at 9pm.

A very loud instrument started. I'm sure I'm offending millions, but I want to call it an oboe – it looked like one, but sounded like bagpipes...or a kazoo...I'm going to call it 'loud instrument'. Loud instrument was followed by some kind of hand-held chariot adorned with flowers and incense, carried by the priests of the temple.

There were many people following the chariot around the giant stone pillars of the temple, and it would have been incredible to watch, had I not just reached the climax of my illness. I'm unsure as to whether this next part actually happened, or if I passed out, hit my head too hard and dreamed it, but here's how I think it went down:

Loads of people followed loud instrument to an in-temple lake where they started burning and fanning leaves, or incense, or both. I remember an older man seemed to want my head on a pike because, from what I gather, my skin wasn't covered enough (the only skin showing was the very top part of my chest, my neck, face, and fingers... but even so, I had a very obvious fever at that point so, had I been wearing a scarf,  it would have come off pretty fast).

Everything got very smoky. I nearly passed out. Chris looked concerned. Loud instrument played on. More things were burned. Whatever was in the chariot was brought out. Hindus and tourists moved around the chariot. I sat down. People smiled at me. Chris looked concerned. I got sicker. There was more smoke. I nearly threw up. Loud instrument stopped. People dispersed. Chris looked concerned.

I threw up.

The temple closed.

The next thing I really remember is checking out of the hotel around 5am, then watching the sunrise on Madurai train station waiting for the 6:35am train to Kanyakumari.

Madurai Train Station
Madurai Train Station

The train trip was long and somehow, amid the screaming babies, mothers, food vendors, and the unforgettably monotone voice of a man shouting "coffee" every five-minutes, I fell asleep and woke up three-hours later to a very inquisitive family of cricket-enthusiasts.

"Where is your place?"
"Australia."
"Ricky Ponting!"

The youngest of the family then started reciting some kind of cricket transcript, as he was coaxed into remembering the English version by his very enthusiastic father.

They seemed to enjoy practising their English on us, and were generally interested in Australia as a place. They were particularly in how much things cost, so we finally managed to effectively communicate to someone in this country how not all Australians are rich, and why that is the case. Saying something as simple as a kilo of rice can be up to 300INR (5.50AUD) put things in perspective, and we kept going until they were kind of bewildered at how simple things (like lunch at 1,000INR) can come at such a great expense.

They gave us some advice on India (beware of liars, thieves, ect), said they'd been on trains since Kolkata to get to Kanyakumari, and how they were planning on venturing around Kerala for two weeks, until the train finally stopped at 11:40am and we parted ways.

Kanyakumari's only real draw cards are:

a) Tt's right on the southern point of India;
b) Gandhi's ashes were kept there, and
c) the sun rises and sets over three seas.

Otherwise, it's just another touristy, rubbish-clad town with overpriced resorts. They could capitalise on spectacular views, but they choose to build resorts behind other resorts with frosted windows...each to their own.

What could be a really beautiful area is covered in rubbish, bell-ringing fairy floss vendors, wildly-persistent counterfeit sunglasses salesmen, and a vast array of stuff you don't want or need.

This one guy was desperate for me to buy a plastic (and not so attractive) necklaces in pastel pink and white.

Man: "Take these <holds three necklaces> 500 rupees."
Me: "No thanks."
Man: "Ok 400."
Me: "No."
Man: "Ok 300."
Me: "I'm really not interested."
Man: "200."
Me: "No."
Man: "Fine, 100."
Me: "Ok, no, I really don't want to."
Man: "100 is cheap."
Me: "Yes, but I'm not interested."
<second necklace vendor approaches>
Other Man: "You should buy the necklaces. Cheap." <nods>
Me: "...No I really don't want to."
Man: "Come on, buy them. One-hundred, how much do you want them for?"
Me: "It's not about price, I just..."
Man: "Then take them, 100."
Me: "I'm sure there are hundreds of other people here who would love some necklaces, but I really don't."

When we got up to leave they (reluctantly) got the picture, and we got back to staring at the three seas, waiting for the sun to set. I know he was really desperate to sell them, and I felt terrible, but if I bought everything because I felt the vendor needed the cash, my funds would dwindle significantly and I'd have no space in my bag.

Kanyakumari Sunset
Kanyakumari Sunset

If you ignore all the people throwing their rubbish into the ocean like it'll just disappear, it was kind of nice. There's something satisfying about making it to the very tip of the country to watch the sun set over The Bay of Bengal, the Arabian Sea, and the Indian Ocean all at the same time, knowing I'll be at the very top of the country in six-weeks time.


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Kodaikanal: Sick In India

It's day 12 and I'm lying on a bed in a small hotel in Madurai surrounded by juice, muesli bars, and canned fruit, fighting the urge to throw up. Again.

P1010780.jpg

I feel as though this was inevitable, but I didn't think it would happen this soon...it leaves a whole 14-weeks for it to happen again. Well, damn. Chris was violently ill two-days ago, and we did think it was lunch in Kodaikanal (this sweet yogurt thing we accidentally ordered), but since I now seem to have the exact same thing, we're thinking it was the school children we met later that day.

We'd decided to go sightseeing around Kodaikanal and went to this one lookout that was supposed to be particularly impressive. The second we got there we were surrounded by these kids (age 12?) on a class trip from Kerala, and they were fascinated by us. Overtly fascinated. I still can't really tell you what the view looked like.

All The Children, Kodaikanal
All The Children, Kodaikanal

Chris was immediately surrounded by a thousand boys, and I was fighting my way around a large group of girls, all asking questions like 'what's your father's name?', 'what's your mother's name?', 'do you have sisters or brothers?', 'what are their names?', where is your place?', 'what is your good name?', inching closer and closer with each question until I was right on the edge of the stairs.

Every time I looked up I was surrounded by a hoard of giant brown eyes and big smiling faces beaming at me from all directions, and the teacher seemed just as fascinated. He said they'd never met Australians so it was exciting for all, and asked just as many questions as they did. After a bunch of photographs, he finally shepherded them along, and we tried to leg the two metres to the lookout before being immediately interrupted by a bunch of guys waving their cameras.

"Where are you from?"
"Australia."
"Ricky Ponting!"

That happens a lot, and I can never bring myself to say I'd sooner watch paint dry than a game of cricket, but these guys were really just in it for the photos. I've now starred in more photos in 12-days than I think I have in my entire life.

In Australia, people frequently tell me to get a tan, and it's difficult to explain that I don't keep my Frosty The Snowman shade of paste out of choice. I burn within about five-minutes, and it never ends in a tan. I once got sunburnt on an aeroplane. An aeroplane. Tanning just isn't in my genetics, and at home, that's considered kind of weird.

In India, it's almost considered royalty. They aspire to be whiter. Every skin product in their supermarkets has some form of whitening agent in it, and everyone in the media is an unnatural shade of pale. In short, it's the reason for all these photographs.

And it's not just a 'quick snap' (as they say) and we're on our way, everyone has to get a photograph, so you end up standing there for about 15-minutes before the next group comes along and seizes the opportunity. And you have to shake everyone's hand, which is also possibly how we got sick.

After all that, we finally got to the lookout and there were a bunch of monkeys there.

Indian Macaques
Indian Macaques

They look harmless enough, but they steal your stuff, spread rabies, and are generally terrifying, so we had to hang back until they disappeared. In the end, we looked over the edge for two-minutes before deciding to head back for fear of being photographed again.

The Western Ghats, India
The Western Ghats, India

Two hours later, Chris was sick.

Two days later, I'm sick.

And we're now hanging in Madurai for much longer than necessary because last time I tried to venture outside I suddenly felt so ill and overwhelmed I had to go back to my room and sleep for two-hours. We haven't even managed to get to the temple yet (the focal point of Madurai), and the thought of eating curry again makes me want to rip out my spleen.


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