29 January - Death & Dicing

Holiday nearly over and I nearly screw it up. First of all by accepting a short lift on the back of an Indian motorbike, during which short trip I witness two accidents. In both cases they picked themselves up, dusted themselves off and were gone, but it’s a reminder of how many die in these parts from carelessness and lack of helmets. Even if they gave them away free they wouldn’t wear them. Ok, it’s hot but not that hot all the time. Then as I’m waiting for a bus from Mahabalipuram into Chennai a car stops to drop a guy off and the driver says he can take me for a fare not much more expensive than the bus. I think of the speed mainly, the bus takes forever, and despite peering into the back where three men are sitting, they look like businessmen but businessmen are men i.e. potential rapists, I get in. A little later I notice my driver has no shoes, not that uncommon a way of driving here, but he also has no side mirrors whatsoever, naturally there is no seat belt and as am sat at the front I get enough sharp breath intakes to make my diaphragm work overtime. It’s getting dark when he drops off the three guys on the outskirts of the city – I thought we were all going to the main station and am alone in the car. Am considering that the traffic is slow-ish, there is no central locking and I can sort of jump out if need be. The conversation is stilted and amiable but truly am an idiot for having to endure that residue of fear that never leaves the pit of your stomach. And it’s never about the money, I don’t have to economise. I think it’s my minuscule dicing with death wish.

Am reminded of that time in Phnom Phen. I blame the Lonely Planet map really. On it the airport was given as 3 km from the edge of the map I came to realise later, but I took it to be from the centre. So when various drivers asked me for xxx I naturally thought they were taking the piss and failing to negotiate down I asked a kid with a motorbike if he would take me to the airport for yyy. He said yes, I jumped on. I had been travelling for a few months and was on my way to meet a friend arriving from London so familiarity kind of made me think I could handle night time and Phnom Phen. Of course I kind of know how long 3km are and once we went past that mark on one of those long roads unlit and flanked by trees that made you think of the photos you saw of either Cambodians being marched out to killing fields by Pol Pot’s soldiers or of Vietcongs coming in to liberate said Cambodians from the Khmer Rouge… well, I started to spook myself badly. For all that Apocalypse Now is a favourite film and there are no current wars, what do I know. This kid is 20 something, could have had a rifle at 8 years old and used it when he was conscripted into the Khmers. Oh god! Here you are, about to be raped and dismembered and left in a ditch and all for the sake of a few dollars of which you’re not short. Of course we could not communicate. Longest bike ride of my life. I kept thinking ‘But if he wants to kill me where is he going to do it? How far out? And that at least Tina not finding me awaiting her, would raise the alarm and as our host there was going to be the head of Amnesty, well, the culprit would be found and my body sent home, but what good is that if you’re already dead?
Until eventually by Km 7 or 8 I saw in the distance the glimmer of what could only be airport lights and yes he deposited me there safely. And with that I still have not learnt my lesson. Eventually car driver alighted at Chennai main station and I gave him double his fare in huge relief. Then went for my usual veggie curry from heaven. Love eating with my hands, any opportunity, wish we could do that in London. By going to the same place several times in a row I also got another top tip for travel. Eventually fewer people will stare at you. Other diners did, but the staff kind of recognised me and didn’t…stare.
Nearly time to bade farewell to the other small things I like here: the cheap phones and cheap internet, the individually sized sachets of shampoos/conditioners and washing powder, the fruit always available at all hours on some stall, the sugared chai that makes me high, the smiles of people who I’ll never see again.