I have decided to grow a long white beard and speed through India like some insane portent of disaster driving women and children to weep and wail and grown men to huddle behind locked doors.
After my sister Paula (who still owes me a testemonial for my wonderful treatment of her during her visit here) departed carrying 32 kilos of gifts - thank you Paula - I spent one more night in Cochin and after finally receiving my authentic Motorcycle Owner Papers, I headed off to Varkala in the belief that once again I would be eating meat, albeit of a lower quality than I am used to but meat, red meat, delicious red meat!
Due to circumstances beyond my control I had to leave at 2pm which was pushing it a bit as I dont like to drive in the dark but I knew the road and I reckoned that I could make the 180kms in just over 4 hours and I was right,though I did have to forgo a photo op with an elephant which I hate to do, I made it just before dark. Arrived here tired, had something light to eat and went to bed happily. Spent the next day relaxing and reading (now that Paula has left I have no incentive to buy anything!). In the evening met a couple of honeymooners who I had met in Munar and we went out together nand of course I ordered steak. Well what I got was not exactly steak and it was badly burned but best of all it was off.
As I ate it I could tell that there was something wrong, it tasted wrong, it looked wrong but could I stop eating it? No way, and I ate it all to the bitter end. 20 minutes after the meal I started shivering and 20 minutes after that I was emptying myself haphazardly all over the place - I will spare you the gory details - in adittion I was in excrutiating pain and moaning like only a sick guy can moan. Some of my young friends here became alarmed for some reason at my absence and came to look for me. When they got no answer at the door they became even more worried and then with the help of Zamir, Yafit's dad, who somehow persuaded me through the window to let them in which I apparently did though I have no recollection of that or of next few hours as they rushed me to the local version of Sisters of Mercy Hospital. I vaguely remember fighting the the insertion of a IV (Which turned out to be a massive dose of antibiotics, so massive that I can see the two little sores I got in a most undinified fall in Munnar about 14 days ago). And then it was morning and I felt almost human. And Eyal and Inbal were with me all night in the hospital, they grabbed an hours sleep on the ground outside before making sure I was alive and kicking. And I was never alone, Yafit was there and Ziv was there and Eyal was there again and Shai was there and if I have forgotten anyone "Mia culpa". And if Yafit hadn't bought me a pair of shorts I wouldnt have been able to leave the hospital, I do have some dignity! So I love you guys.
The hospital is reminiscent of Tel Hashomer in the early 50s but 50 years back again. Everything is very basic and I believe that if the guys had not brought me food I wouldnt have gotten any. I guess however that the medical staff are competent because here I sit at the computer typing this bullshit (no Freudian). It is the non medical side that is more interesting, I was an instant tourist attraction, they came in their droves to gape and gawk and stare, usually from behind the door but at least one guy brought his three kids into the room and they all stared at me while wagglig their heads in the Indian way and smiling inanely. I smiled and waggled my head back at them for about 5 minutes but then gave up in exaustion, they continued for another 10 minutes without uttering a sound and then got up and left. Then there was the baba who said he identified with me because the moslems had tried to kill him too. And the student nurses of both sexes who came in 3s to stare at me (which is weird because girls usually travel in pairs). They seem awfully young.
So I will not be eating meat again till I reach Nepal!
Our story continues, at some stage of the prehospital proceedings somebody called "Habait Haham (The warm home) which is an Israeli organization funded by the government and some anti-drug organisation which does great work with kids who "Flip out" - mitfalpim - OD on something or other and they follow the Israelis in their migrations from north to south and back again trying to help the "mitfalpim" get home again. So the next thing is that my son Roy gets a call from the foreign ministry or the embassy in Delhi suggesting that he get on the next flight to carry me home - I still don't know where they got his number, did they call all the Barels in Israel till they found one who would admit me as his father? Well I understand that that upset Roy who is quite used to my foibles and eccentricities by now and he and Paula got in touch with cousin Ariel in Goa who got the number of the hospital and still shaking from the after effects of my desperate illness I was called to the phone to hear cousin Ariel and 30 minutes later again to speak to Paula.
Romours of my demise are greatly exaggerated - I mean me mitfaleping, it aint gonna happen!
I will not be meat again till I reach Nepal!
After my sister Paula (who still owes me a testemonial for my wonderful treatment of her during her visit here) departed carrying 32 kilos of gifts - thank you Paula - I spent one more night in Cochin and after finally receiving my authentic Motorcycle Owner Papers, I headed off to Varkala in the belief that once again I would be eating meat, albeit of a lower quality than I am used to but meat, red meat, delicious red meat!
Due to circumstances beyond my control I had to leave at 2pm which was pushing it a bit as I dont like to drive in the dark but I knew the road and I reckoned that I could make the 180kms in just over 4 hours and I was right,though I did have to forgo a photo op with an elephant which I hate to do, I made it just before dark. Arrived here tired, had something light to eat and went to bed happily. Spent the next day relaxing and reading (now that Paula has left I have no incentive to buy anything!). In the evening met a couple of honeymooners who I had met in Munar and we went out together nand of course I ordered steak. Well what I got was not exactly steak and it was badly burned but best of all it was off.
As I ate it I could tell that there was something wrong, it tasted wrong, it looked wrong but could I stop eating it? No way, and I ate it all to the bitter end. 20 minutes after the meal I started shivering and 20 minutes after that I was emptying myself haphazardly all over the place - I will spare you the gory details - in adittion I was in excrutiating pain and moaning like only a sick guy can moan. Some of my young friends here became alarmed for some reason at my absence and came to look for me. When they got no answer at the door they became even more worried and then with the help of Zamir, Yafit's dad, who somehow persuaded me through the window to let them in which I apparently did though I have no recollection of that or of next few hours as they rushed me to the local version of Sisters of Mercy Hospital. I vaguely remember fighting the the insertion of a IV (Which turned out to be a massive dose of antibiotics, so massive that I can see the two little sores I got in a most undinified fall in Munnar about 14 days ago). And then it was morning and I felt almost human. And Eyal and Inbal were with me all night in the hospital, they grabbed an hours sleep on the ground outside before making sure I was alive and kicking. And I was never alone, Yafit was there and Ziv was there and Eyal was there again and Shai was there and if I have forgotten anyone "Mia culpa". And if Yafit hadn't bought me a pair of shorts I wouldnt have been able to leave the hospital, I do have some dignity! So I love you guys.
The hospital is reminiscent of Tel Hashomer in the early 50s but 50 years back again. Everything is very basic and I believe that if the guys had not brought me food I wouldnt have gotten any. I guess however that the medical staff are competent because here I sit at the computer typing this bullshit (no Freudian). It is the non medical side that is more interesting, I was an instant tourist attraction, they came in their droves to gape and gawk and stare, usually from behind the door but at least one guy brought his three kids into the room and they all stared at me while wagglig their heads in the Indian way and smiling inanely. I smiled and waggled my head back at them for about 5 minutes but then gave up in exaustion, they continued for another 10 minutes without uttering a sound and then got up and left. Then there was the baba who said he identified with me because the moslems had tried to kill him too. And the student nurses of both sexes who came in 3s to stare at me (which is weird because girls usually travel in pairs). They seem awfully young.
So I will not be eating meat again till I reach Nepal!
Our story continues, at some stage of the prehospital proceedings somebody called "Habait Haham (The warm home) which is an Israeli organization funded by the government and some anti-drug organisation which does great work with kids who "Flip out" - mitfalpim - OD on something or other and they follow the Israelis in their migrations from north to south and back again trying to help the "mitfalpim" get home again. So the next thing is that my son Roy gets a call from the foreign ministry or the embassy in Delhi suggesting that he get on the next flight to carry me home - I still don't know where they got his number, did they call all the Barels in Israel till they found one who would admit me as his father? Well I understand that that upset Roy who is quite used to my foibles and eccentricities by now and he and Paula got in touch with cousin Ariel in Goa who got the number of the hospital and still shaking from the after effects of my desperate illness I was called to the phone to hear cousin Ariel and 30 minutes later again to speak to Paula.
Romours of my demise are greatly exaggerated - I mean me mitfaleping, it aint gonna happen!
I will not be meat again till I reach Nepal!
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