Jake Gordon

Books and Weird Shit

15 February 2001

As is my nature, whilst in England I can neve be bothered to read anything at all. I’ll find a book and think ‘yes, that’ll be good to read’ and then watch tv or go on the computer. Being on holiday or travels is totally different, because you have a lot more time to just relax and reading is a gread thing to do during that time.

So far I’ve read a mixture of Ben Elton and Michael Chriton, but today I devoured a wickedly relevant book for me called ‘Are you experienced?’ - it’s all about a boy in his gap year who goes to India for three months, mostly by himself. Excellent stuff, some of it had me in hysterics whilst other parts just amazed at how identical to my experience some of this boy’s fictional experience was. I suggest to read it if you want to know what it’s like here - even if the truth may not be quite as action-packed and exciting as some of the stuff in the book.

Went for about a two and a half hour walk along the beach today. Went past a huge fleet of fishing boats, and along that stretch the beach is basically, no… actually, a huge public toilet. I’d read in the Rough Guide how it was a shitting ground, but I didn’t quite expect this. Everywhere you look are piles of the most bazarre looking brown lumps that you’ve ever seen - small light-brown ones, big dark-reddy-brown ones, splobs here and there… it’s frightful to think of the way some people’s intestinal system must be working to make some of the multicoloured human dung heaps.

Decided to dump my small backpack on the secluded beach at one point and jump in the sea. Very refreshing and warm, also salty of course, and after I’d fully submerged myself in the Bay of Bengal I jumped straight back out again to ensure someone wasn’t going to run away with my pack. As I continued walking I kept getting harassed by poor indians trying to sell me stupid little beads and rides on their boats - I agreed to the later… until I realised that the boat was simply two or three pieces of manky wood stapled together. I wasn’t going to get in that, mainly for fear of falling out or it breaking, and then all the money in my bag getting sodden and so rendered unuseable. A nice swim back to shore would have been my cup of tea, but it was my bags contents that I was worried about.

Next: Indian Work: Child labour, wage and baksheesh Previous: To Spew Or Not To Spew

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by Jake Gordon, some rights reserved