I've realised the key to all new places is figuring what they call the shop where they get their booze from. I've done thekhas and wine shops and now off-licences, and I am fully confident that once you figure out what people call their liquor store, you're in, baby. Seriously. (Out of curiousity, if any of you are from a part of the world where they call liquor stores something else, do add a comment, it'll be fun to see what the "key" to other places is.)
Anyway, I haven't just been sitting around and twiddling my thumbs since the last time we spoke. I have actually been quite a busy camper and if you don't believe me, here is a list of things that have happened to me in this cold (but still so pretty!) country:
1) I have taken FULL advantage of a very, very rapid internet connection and got a lot of Grey's Anatomy/How I Met Your Mother watching done.
2) I have been ID'd (!) at a bar, proving conclusively to myself that I do indeed look under 18 years old. (This is getting slightly ridiculous. It was cute once, but how long will I bear the burden of looking 12?)
3) I have been sooooo very drunk. Margaritas and tequila and vodka and English boys who drink more in one sesh than I could in an entire year at Zenzi makes for a very hungover person the next morning. Which leads me to point number four.
4) JC has shared with me his Ultimate Hangover Cure, Mexican food, which was so so good that even now typing 'Mexican food' is making my mouth fill up with drool. Also, I haven't eaten anything. This is because while I have become awesome around the kitchen with the making myself coffee etc, JC is my number one provider, as in, he can cook and I.. well, I can not. And so all my mealtimes consist of a dialogue before where I go: "I'm hungry" JC: *Sexual innuendo* Me: "No, I'm serious, I'm actually hungry for food." JC: *little bit more with the innuendo-ing* and back and forth we go. He'll finally tell me to make it myself, I will tell him for the, oh, FIVE TRILLIONTH time that I can't cook, he'll do some more this-and-that-ing and then maybe forty minutes later, I will get some food.
5) Sights have been seen, people have been visited. The British Museum, the Tate Gallery of Modern Art, walking on the riverbank, looking at Sherlock Holmes's statue, bumming around Covent Garden and watching the street performers, and later this week MAYBE Bath, if we can get it together and Hampton Court Palace. Sadly, I leave on Saturday and I'm SO not looking forward to it. Primarily because I'm returning on my own and it's going to be a long distance relationship again for us for at least another month and this makes me sad. But also, I feel very Ruth Pravar Jhabwala and I'm going, "The heat, the dust!" Just spray paint me white and call me a memsahib, I guess. Where's my sola topee? Ram Laul, chai lana! (Heh. Only joking. After watching Slumdog in irony of ironies, a little theatre in the heart of British suburbia, I feel very Mumbai meri jaan also. I really liked the movie, by the way, despite the fact that it seems to be fashionable to hate it.)
Well, work to do, boyfriends to nag, columns to write. Away I go. See you all back in Bombay next week!
24 February 2009
12 February 2009
Gah. I don't even know why I bother anymore coz I only seem to be updating this thing once every couple of weeks. Here's the thing though; the reason posting frequency seems to have gone down. Ever since I became a freelance writer, my columns have been pretty much taking out of me whatever subject matter I need for my posts. So blogging is disjointed, unfrequent and usually not as top quality as it used to be when I was a journalist and wasn't writing about the same things I blog about.
Excuses over, here's what I've been doing. At the moment, I'm in England and boy, does it feel unreal to type that. I didn't honestly think I was going to come, not even when my ticket came, not when the visa came, not until I got onto the plane and even then, butterflies dancing around in my abdomen, I was pretty sure it was a dream or happening to someone else. I got off and pushed my (very heavy) suitcases through the gate, scanning the crowd for JC. No JC. I'm all oh no, what shall I do and segueing into, okay, I must find someplace that will give me change and then find a pay phone and I'm going to kill him but he was there! All waiting and pretty and awesome and we hugged for so long, like our bodies were fused or something. Even now we're pretty much constantly touching, finding excuses (or, not so much) to kiss or hold hands or to rub a friendly hand on the other's face (me) or bottom (him).
I'm in a very pretty English countryside-y place, you know, with foxes and rabbits (and robins, which is what the picture is of) running across the road, and thatched cottages and Enid Blyton and Mistletoe Farm and all that. I even had crumpets for breakfast. If you've ever felt like you were transported back through time into a book and then suddenly saw everything you read about coming to life then you'd know how exciting this is. And if you haven't, then well, perhaps it's time for you to plan a trip somewhere.
AND it's not even that cold which was my biggest worry. Okay so I have a huge thermal jacket and loads of sweaters and boots and stockings, but I thought even those would be inadequate. But it's been nice (the entire day I've been here ie). Very Delhi in the middle of winter, except with central heating. And rain.
Anyway, to make up for my lack of posting, think of this as part one of the eM does England Diaries. The next part will be up on Friday or Sunday. Maybe even (oooh) pictures. Plus more mushy stuff of course, but hey, a girl's gotta have some romance.