The Mumbai was becoming invasive. It sneaks into every fold of skin, into armpits, it trickles down down back fat into bum cracks under ball sacks it festers, soaking flesh as gaping pores ooze a smelly slick of sweat that sticks the city stench to the skin. Mumbaikars desperately seek out sanctuaries of air-conditioned bliss only to find that as the sweat evaporates, it leaves smudgy black grime and salt crystals that crush, itch and irritate even into the fitful, frustrating, sleepless nights.
I had to get out. The city seemed to want me gone, as if it had risen its temperature to fight me off like an infection, and the bureaucracy had developed a sudden resistance to foreign bodies like mine. Like an immune system, with single-mindedness they are purging foreigners from their midst, but to argue with a government peon is much like having a debate with a white blood cell.
This cheery chap is tasked with making sure his own job is always necessary. This is a real photo of the FRRO.
I went back into the Foreigner’s Regional Registration Office to get my permission to leave the country. I’d been there the day earlier to be excused for overstaying my visa by two days. I had showed them my ticket and passport, and they sent me away, telling me I needed to come back with my proof of address, a letter explaining why I was leaving late, and a letter to verify that I should have been allowed into India in the first place. Read more…
Technorati Tags: bureaucracy, frustration, immigration, India, passport, visa
Harry, June 9th 2010 |
Tags: bureaucracy, frustration, immigration, India, passport, visa
Posted in India, Rants, Travel
I wrote this (well most of it) recently for a Times of India special on Rajasthan
Holy Cow and a B’wood Gora.
Enjoy it!
Neither smiles nor turbans come any bigger
Rajasthan was exactly what I’d expected of India, the postcard image that had been romanticised for so long: Long rolling deserts, blistering heat, tenacious religious fervour and broad, welcoming smiles. I rode to Udaipur at around dusk on my Enfield, and revelled in winding up through the steep streets (my bike loves an incline) gazing at the ancient buildings. I was so captured by the sight, craning my neck upwards, that I almost ran right up an elephant’s rear.
Pushkar was amazing – the heat was oppressive such that almost everyone that ventured into the sunlight was rendered unconscious by its harsh glare. The streets were deserted, and only the most legitimate holy babas remained – all of the scamsters had left with the tourists, in search of temperate climate. I even saw a five-legged cow, that was far holier than those from my farm in Australia. I have developed a strange relationship with cows after being in North India, where the Brahmin bulls stand taller than me – and I’m 6 foot 3! I’d grown on a cattle farm in Australia where the black cows we knew were terrified of us from birth, it was amazing to be able to touch and feed these holy beasts as they nonchalantly stood in the middle of the chaotic roads. They really are more intelligent than I’d guessed. The cows in Australia know that they are food, and yet here they are Gods – and again they know it.
5th legs: Particularly useful for cows suffering from vertigo or alcoholism
Read more…
Harry, May 7th 2010 |
Posted in Raves, Travel
I was feeling disconnected from the world because my fancy new phone was out of credit. I went to a Nokia dealer in a spanky new shiny mall and asked him if he sold Vodafone credit.
“Do you want to do it the easy way or the hard way?” He asked.
Bewildered, I gave the predictable response: “The easy way.”
“Not possible” he replied.
“Okay, the hard way then.” I acquiesced, feeling sure we were already doing it the hard way.
“Where is your phone from” he asked.
“Mumbai” I said.
“Not possible.” Read more…
Technorati Tags: India
Harry, February 19th 2010 |
Tags: India
Posted in India, Travel
Through the pulsing haze of smoke, a stunning Thai girl was dancing seductively and whipping her hair at me.
“She’s gotta be a hooker” I told my mate Hale.
“Nah, she just thinks you’re hot.” he retorted.
“I know how hot I am mate, and I’ve never been that hot, particularly not in the eyes of someone like her”
Read more…
Technorati Tags: alpha males, bangkok, dating, prostitution, sex, thailand, Travel, women
Harry, February 2nd 2010 |
Tags: alpha males, bangkok, dating, prostitution, sex, thailand, Travel, women
Posted in Rants, Travel
