Midnight Express: How to Not Take Trains in Southern India.

As seems to be a consistent theme during my India trip, locating trains is like playing Escape Rooms, but I don’t know if that’s India’s fault or my easily confused mush-brain. When I do find the correct Kochi-bound train, I choose to impractically squeeze through the inside of the narrow, busy carriages with my giant

Shopping Balls

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

American Psycho

Once the cockroaches start to affect our mental wellbeing, Amy and I move out of our hotel into what promises to be a dream of an apartment. The very fact it’s called ‘an apartment’ and is in a ‘complex’ is music to my ears. This could be Lauren and Heidi’s condo in The Hills! Pulling

Ashraming with Amy

I fly from Panjim to Bangalore and get a taxi at the airport. I am handed a card with a number to call if I, as a woman, find myself ‘in any trouble’. This card is specifically given to female passengers and the man handing me the card is the taxi stand operator who is

Crabs Legs, Churches and The Religious Funfair

In my hostel I share my dorm with 3 other girls, one from Bangalore, one from Canada and the Finnish girl. We chat about each other’s lives and it’s all very innocent and wholesome. Any minute now I think, someone will get out facemasks or start a pillow fight. That day I walk around Panjim

Long Day’s Journey Into Night

Post Leopard Valley, The Emily Bratt Hangover is real. And have to check out of my hut at 11am (I am travelling to Panjim). Then I am homeless with periodical waves of nausea washing over me. It’s catastrophic. I switch between lying fetal on a sun lounger and sitting mute in a café sweating into

Leopard Valley

The words Leopard Valley have been whispered in the wind over the last few days. Described as ‘clubbing evolved’ (although I read it as ‘clubbing involved’), it’s South Goa’s big Friday night party and it promises to be the all night rager I’ve been looking for after a chilled five days. However, if I’ve learnt

Of Mice and Massages

There comes a point in every girl’s life where she will have her boobs massaged by a foreign masseuse and she won’t know why. The girls that go backpacking and like cheap massages, at least. This is my third confusing boob massage over the years the first two being in Malaysia and Bali respectively. But

#beachlife

The next day I wander down a lane towards the beach to find a Lonely Planet recommended eatery good for brunch. I’m fantasizing about a Shoreditch-style poached egg and avocado combo since curry has been my staple breakfast up until now. I don’t get that. And whilst there I hear (before I see) a middle-aged

Delhi to Palolem

I stay in Palolem in South Goa which is apparently less hedonistic than the north but still has bars (I read: less 18 year old English, pissed dickheads and hippy tossers showing off their sweet fire poi skillz). It’s an absolute dream after the madness of Delhi and Jaipur. I hope I feel like that