Later that week, after I’ve contracted Delhi Belly and have spent two full days going from bog to bed, Amy and I treat ourselves to a nice hotel in the centre of Bangalore. It has a beautiful rooftop restaurant from which we can look out over the city and over some kids playing dusty football in the sort-of slums beneath our 4 star, cream-painted hotel. We are literally looking down from our ivory tower.
We go shopping in Bangalore city centre which is a mildly stressful experience, but with Amy at my side I have a new found confidence and I feel ready not to stand for any bullshit.
I find myself haggling like an absolute pro – walking away and dragging Amy with me when we don’t get the right price and then gloating when the shopkeeper shouts ‘Ok! Ok! Ok!’ after us. If I was 7 and Amy was my friend I had round for tea, I would be told off by my mum for showing off. I get really ahead of myself and attempt to explain to a hassling shopkeeper that he would make more sales if he didn’t harass or distract his customers, which falls on deaf ears. Then, to really hammer home my point, I exit the shop, leaving behind the earrings that I actually really wanted.
The following day Amy leaves and I await my night train to Kerala with trepidation. (You can read about how that went here).
A Bratt Abroad 