Saturday 3rd July.

Woke up early from a knock at the door from the hotel staff. At 8.15 I was driven to the airport to take yet another flight. The inside of Mumbai’s domestic airport was a far cry from the chaos of the city. I sat and read my book (thanks Adam : ) and people-watched. I figured that I should probably eat something, as it had been more than twelve hours since my last meal. I managed to find a fast-food establishment in the food court. I can’t remember the name, but it was some kind of South Indian eatery. I ordered masala dosa (like a rice pancake filled with potato), which was so much nicer than any I have sampled in Rusholme.

As expected, the flight was delayed. I’ve not seen many white tourists yet and I was apparently the only non-Indian on the flight. The flight itself, all two hours of it, was turbulent and not pleasant. The air-hostesses wore particularly short skirts and a mask of make up. What else can you expect from an airline run by a sleazy looking, fat little politician. The airline also has a beer brand of the same variety…

Upon arrival at Kochin, I paid the 220 rupees for a pre-paid taxi to the station in Ernakulum city. It seems a lot like when I arrived in Goa initially, very lush and green. The station itself was small, crowded and sweaty. Lugging my three bags around whilst being continually stared at was not a pleasant experience. Nor was queuing, English-style, waiting at the information desk. Men kept ignoring me and pushing in front. So far, I’ve been polite to everyone, but I’m getting close to snapping. I then had to wait in another line to book at ticket. 50 rupees for the four-hour journey to Calicut seemed okay, but as I was buying on the same day, I could not reserve a seat. I briefly used the internet before getting the train after a two hour wait. Some little man seemed to think I should follow him to the correct carriage, which I did, and then was subsequently refused on, because I did not have a seat reservation. I then had to find another carriage, which was a horrible task as all along the platform people were hanging out the train, trying desperately to stay on. Overcrowding seemed completely natural. An elderly woman told me to get on a certain carriage. So there I stood, trying to watch my bags, next to the open door of a speeding train. That was a particularly stressful experience.

Train journeys, it seems, must be met with a certain sense of humor. Most of the people around me seemed jovial and in good spirits, despite the heat, overcrowding and persistent smell of, well, shit. Two nuns, one of whom could speak English, offered to put my bags on the shelf, which took the effort of about four people to do. After standing for an hour, cramped and wondering whether the journey would ever end, the younger of the two Sisters offered to share her seat with me, which was humbling. It was then I noticed that they were sat opposite a Muslim family, which struck me as very strange indeed. The fact that they were laughing and joking with each other seemed stranger still. The nun and the youngish man next to her asked about what I was doing in Kerala, how long I would be staying and why I was travelling alone. The last bit of information seemed to worry the Nun in particular, who then made it somewhat of her mission to look after me for the rest of the three-hour journey.

I reached Calicut at around 10ish and was ushered to the entrance by the Nuns and offered the use of their mobile (which hilariously had a photograph of the Virgin Mary on the screen) to call Vinod. Ten minutes later, the Indian version of Santa Claus bounded up to me, introducing himself with immaculate English and thanking the Nuns for watching out for me. I was then taken in the CREST jeep to the girl’s hostel and during the journey was given far too much information about CREST to digest after such a long day, about the impending journey, or “invasion” to Delhi and about what I would be doing. Not more cross-country flights, surely?

Down a winding track off a main road, the vehicle stopped and I got out to a large, gated house where I was introduced to the two Aunties (a cook and matron) and some of the girls I would be apparently looking after. My room was really luxurious compared with the grubbiness if Mumbai; spacious, large desk, lots of windows, double bed, two fans and en suite bathroom with shower. I was really pleasantly surprised. My room is downstairs, through the dining area, a small room not really big enough for the 24 girls (or, rather, women) who reside here and the room where one of the Aunties sleeps is opposite mine.

Vinod departed, briefly making arrangements to collect me the following day and providing me with a sim card for my phone, which does not seem to want to text UK numbers unfortunately. I ate chapatti and curry, with soy (the kind that looks like chunks of beef or chicken) and was introduced to some of the postgraduates. One in particular, Relna, seemed particularly outgoing. She had studied biomedical sciences before coming to this course. Other girls have studied Law, Yoga, Literature and Commerce. In comparison, my choice of courses do not seem quite as ‘practical’, which made me doubt my ability to be of any use here at all.

At about 11.30 I said my goodnights, after being taught some brief Malayalam and went to unpack and read.