This morning, I had to check my packet of malaria pills to find out what day of the week it was. Now that's what I call Being On Holiday.
We arrived at Misty Heights the day before yesterday, via an overnight train to Mettupalaiyam. Thank Krishna it was the last stop, as I couldn't undo the combination padlock with which I had chained our bags to the luggage rack. We could have ended up anywhere. But thankfully our hosts were waiting and sorted it out (how, I don't know), and we were off into the glorious Nilgiri Hills.
We're now at somewhere around 6600 feet. The air is thin, the stars are huge, and we are ourselves getting bigger by the hour thanks to three home cooked Indian meals a day. We've done a little walking through the tea buses and eucalyptus stands, a lot of sleeping, and M had purchased some shiny new Indian specs, having stomped on his two days before we left...
Our to do list is getting smaller, which was the plan, and I feel we are, you know, acclimatising. I even have an Indian mobile, which could text in Hindi if I wanted it to, and which reminds me when it's Kingfisher time (about now).
You don't need as much beer up here. I am sure there are myriad reasons for this.
joella
2 comments:
Happy christmas, even if that's sort of missing the point of your going away. We have freezing fog here (or what some weather presenters still insist on calling 'a freezing fog situation') which is likely to be the closest we get to a proper winter now the planet has been ruined by frequent flyers like you!
Happy Christmas & thanks for the call. Much appreciated, though I realised afterwards that I was slightly shocked & almost scandalised at the notion of a long distance phonecall when no one had died. My old fashioned notions re telephones & taxis seem to be firmly rooted in the last century. Fight it I may, but I'm still my mother's daughter! Carry on chilling, much love.
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