Friday 23^rd November

This week I had lunch with my friend Angela, who had just been on a brief holiday in China and Tibet.  Shanghai, she said, was overwhelming, and so very polluted.  Everyone says this!  The area of Tibet she spent time in was just beautiful but VERY cold, dry and dusty.  As well as this the food was quite horrid.  Lots of fat.  Fatty meal, fatty yak’s fattyfat… She was routinely given strong tea with lashings of yak’s milk and butter melted into it, and dinner would be a lamb chop of which more than half was glistening yellow fat.  Oh how I would hate this diet!!  It is of course appropriate to the climate – all that fat insulates them against the bitter cold. 

When I was on 2XS a few years ago with Pete’s son James, I was being all princess-y about my lamb chop or steak or whatever, carefully removing all vestiges of unpalatable fat.  James looked at me with narrowed eyes (he knows me well…) and said, “Why won’t you eat it, Marguerite?”  I shuddered and said, in prissy tones, “Because I don’t like it and it’s not good for me.”  “Oh,” said James, “and what about all the cheese and butter and mayonnaise you love to eat?”

Ummm…no valid response to that question, James…

India #25

The train station nearest to Hampi is in Hospet, a very small rural town.  When we got out of the train - hollow-eyed ghouls -we were absolutely overwhelmed by autorickshaw drivers.  There were dozens of them, all shouting at us and grabbing for our luggage.  It was just impossible.  Pete and Vish stood their ground, trying to make sense of the din.  I felt a slight tap on my arm, and there was a quiet, handsome young man.  “I know you hate all of this, it is just awful, isn’t it?  Could you please promote me to your husband?  I live in Hampi and it is easy for me to take you in my rickshaw.”  So… I did just that!  I forged my way through the melee and found my “husband” and promoted my bloke, and we were up and away!  Vish and Mary chose their bloke too, to howls of dismay from the rejected drivers.  One of them came up to me, green eyes ablaze with fury.  “I spoke to you FIRST!” he shouted, “Remember?  I got on the train and said I would be your driver?  Why have you chosen THAT one?”  (What could I say??  I chose one who was quiet and polite, you are too noisy and aggressive?  Live and learn!  Better to smile placating and vanish in a small puff of autorickshaw smoke.)  It was in fact a very good choice.  Our driver was just lovely, and he arrived punctually to drive us hither and yon around Hampi.