Long Overdue Update!!!

I started this blog almost a week ago, but only just finished today. Sorry for the wait!

What have I been doing, you might ask, since I've completely neglected the blog? Well, let me tell you...

The day my yoga course finished, I packed up my stuff and got out of that overpriced luxury accommodation as quickly as possible. With my yoga friends Kat and Chloe, I moved to Arambol, a town about 10 minutes drive down the road from where the course was in Mandrem. We found the cheapest, most disgusting hotel possible and relaxed before our big trip to Hampi. In his last post (or the one before?) Dave wrote a bit about his trip to Hampi, so I won't bore you with the details (it still looked like bedrock, there were still loads of temple and palace ruins). But I will tell you that traveling with 3 girls is insane compared to Dave- they take FOREVER to go anywhere and they NEVER stop talking. Needless to say, it was a bit overwhelming for me.

Hampi

Hampi

We spent three days in Hampi, at an even cheaper and more disgusting hotel. You'd think things would have improved since I was staying with girls, but they didn't. I ended up having to play Dave to my friend Maudie, assuring her that the rat that ran across our bed, leaving it's poo behind, would not be back in the night and that she should just calm down and go to sleep.

We took overnight buses to and from Hampi, which turned out to be much more exciting than any overnight bus ride I've had so far. On the way there, the girls and I were sharing four sleepers at the back. We were sitting happily, a pile of snacks in front of us, ready for the 14 hour ride when the ticket collector came toward us, a blond girl following. He informed us that the bus had been overbooked and the girl wouldn't have a seat if we didn't move over for her. I immediately moved, smiling and nodding, feeling sorry for the poor girl and not doubting the ticket collector's honesty for a second. My friends however, were much more skeptical, and quickly accused the ticket collector of selling the seats to other people and forcing the girl to share with us. They demanded compensation since we had paid for our seats. I just sat back, amazed that they really thought they would get anywhere arguing with an Indian ticket collector. They didn't, and the girl ended up squeezed in with us.

On the return journey, the driver stopped an hour away from the town we had all booked to go to and told us we had to get off. I was happy to get off, roll my eyes, shrug my shoulders, it's India, what to do, right? My friends, however, were having none of it. They demanded that the driver take us the whole way, and got everyone to refuse to leave the bus. I hid in my bunk, convinced that the driver would just start throwing our things out the window, but to my surprise, he started the bus and drove us the rest of the way. So maybe it is worth arguing on an Indian bus.

We came back from Hampi and moved into a great guesthouse in Arambol, perched on a cliff looking down at the ocean. We spent the next few days going to the beach, eating papaya and pineapple, doing a little yoga and shopping. We rented scooters a few times and rode around happily, until I got pulled over at a road block and had my scooter taken away because I don't have an international drivers license. The 6 Indian police waving their arms at me informed me I could keep the bike if I paid Rp 950 (about $23) or I could give them my Canadian license and pay Rp 450. Fortunately when I rented the bike I didn't leave my passport or a deposit, so the only consequence to leaving the bike with the police was major bad karma.

Phoebe, Maudie & Chloe, my beautiful yogi friends, on our way back from Paradise Beach

For a few days in Arambol, Dave was staying at the same guesthouse, and it was great to have him there with my yogi friends. But the draw of his new nephew was stronger than the draw of Goa, and Dave took off for Jakarta, leaving me to fly alone 4 days later. When I did leave, it was very sad for me to say goodbye, not just to my friends, but to the beach and landscape of Goa I had become so at home in. Tears streaming down my face, I found a cab to take me to the airport. With me gazing out the back window, waving frantically to my shrinking friends, the cab driver exclaimed, "you sad? I play sad music." For the next two hours, not only was I sad, I was tortured by pounding Enrique Iglesias and wailing Celine Dion.

Dave introduced me to this place, they made the best sandwiches in Arambol

I survived somehow, and, three flights later, arrived in Jakarta the next day. This is when the suffering really begins. Dave and his brother picked me and their mum up from the airport (Gail had flown from Canada) and took us back to Adrian's awful apartment. I was forced to relax all afternoon, AND the next day. Dave's bag was lost at some point between Goa and Jakarta, so using his Visa insurance money we went to the Grand Indonesia and replaced his wardrobe. Imagine how difficult this was for me- having to spend all afternoon in a mall, choosing things for Dave to try on and spending money that wasn't mine. The difficulties continued that night, when Adrian's helper prepared an Indonesian feast for us. In the morning, Adrian had the nerve to take us all to a mansion outside of Jakarta, surrounded by tea plantations, palm trees and other beautiful mansions. We spent three torturous days there, reading books, playing board games, swimming in the pool, eating food prepared by Adrian and practicing yoga on the balcony. We're now back in Jakarta, again staying in Adrian's awful apartment, suffering beside the pool.

We're spending Christmas in Jakarta before heading to Bali and Gili Trawangan. Hopefully I'll survive.

ps. I've posted new pictures on facebook, look if you like....
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=5504244&l=57d99837dc&id=511324453