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Welcome to Kochi

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The flight from Singapore to Kochi was horrendous and luckily only four and a half hours. I hadn’t slept for over forty hours, not properly anyway. I bought a concoction from 7/11 at the airport that was a natural sleep remedy. Contained melatonin. I hit a wall an hour before getting on the plane. The Pints of Heineken did all they could and now I was ready to get out of the place. I walked onto the plane and my seat was on the window. Beside an elderly Indian couple. I was clogged in and the plane was hot. I was hot. I tried to open the little air vent and it was blowing with no intention. The man next to me kept putting his elbow into my space. Our skin touching. I run hot at the best of times. I started to get itchy. I tried to close my eyes and breathe to twenty through my nose. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t escape myself. I wanted to elbow this man. At times I kept my arm firm on the rest and held my ground. But the skin contact did not seem to bother him. I had bouts of panic but knew I couldn’t do anything about it, which was what was causing the panic to begin with. I watched the first forty minutes of no country for old men and even in my terror I could appreciate the movie. But I couldn’t continue. I got out of there after they served the food. I was hoping the food would settle me down, like feeding a crying baby, but it didn’t, just made me more hot, made my elbows more active and also the man next to me. They gave little ice creams, dark chocolate. Frozen to oblivion. Rewriting it now even starts to make me itch. Troubles a well rested man would smirk at. I found an empty seat at the back of the plane and laid in there. I didn’t sleep but dreamt. Mindful hallucinations. When we landed I did smile. After thinking of this trip for so long and finally being in India it felt like my mind was home. It was 10pm local time and my watch that hadn’t been adjusted from home read 3:30am. The customs procedure was fine, I was expecting something to go wrong and nothing did. I walked out and got hit by the humidity and warmth of the country. Booked an Uber. 45-minute drive and about $20. The conversion rate is one of those things my brain refuses to work out. 57-1. good odds down at the track. 500 rupee is $10. anything less than that isn’t worth working out. The uber cancelled and I stood with my luggage calmly. My spirit was still intact. A driver accepted my trip and then rang me five minutes later. I don’t know what he was saying but after 2 minutes of talking he kept saying “hello?”

again and again. “hello?”

“HELLO??” I replied, again and again.

Until he finally came around the corner, he was a kind looking man, young with a beard and nice teeth that allowed a nice smile. He asked if he could cancel the trip and I pay him and I said yes, slightly worried he could take me wherever and rape me with a knife and take all my belongings. But that was just the racist in me, or the cautious. His name was Ubu and he was very kind. He had two phones. He was speaking on one and using the other as he drove between buses and trucks and potholes and crossed lanes and beeped and everyone beeped back.

“You have good look, beautiful smile” he told me,

“Thanks, so do you”

He asked me if I'm afraid of him and I said no, by now I wasn’t and I trusted him. He dropped me off and I gave him 1500R, which as I explained earlier is $30. Ubu told me it cost him 1000R a day to hire the car and we stopped for gas that was 653R. So my trip almost got him in front.

I walked into the Airbnb and the key was inside. It was dark and late and hot. I felt far from home. The apartment was hot and the aircon was on. I thought I wont be able to sleep in this heat. I am a weak little white boy. The aircon was set to 24. I turned them all on to 17 and had a shower. There was no hot water. Well, I think there is but only through the tap and you’ve got to use a little bucket to work it out. But I just had a cold shower. Cleaned my cock for the first time in 3 days and it breathed a sigh of relief. Brushed my teeth dry because I had no water yet. Laid down and read ask the dust by John Fante. Second read, peak of novels. The bed was hard and the blanket small but I slept. I woke up early and I felt homesick. But luckily I've dealt with many bouts of despair whilst being at home. I've felt homesick at home. I thought about my relationship with death. How my lack of denial of the fact we will all soon be gone leads me to grab as much life as I can. I thought I may have gotten it wrong. Shouldn’t I be enjoying the pleasures of my existence if this thing is so feeble? I rubbed my chest and told myself I love you. What is homesickness but a little distance from the soul? I fell back asleep and awoke feeling much better. I packed my bag and set for the beach. It was a two hour walk, which was fine because id been living a luxurious take away lifestyle back home and the only way I could lose weight was to move countries, maybe this is what its all about? The walk wasn’t really a walk. The path was not even a path. Like watching a man walk the skirts of a highway at home. But no one gives a shit what you do over here. The streets are busy. A billion people and all in transit. I walked with intention and have a cunning ability to look as if I know what I'm doing when I'm not. My false confidence tricks even myself. Walking across the road like I'm a part of all this madness. It felt good. I see the stray dogs. Skinny and covered in wounds. Out of everything, they’re the ones that make me want to write poetry. I was scared of them. I had bought two litre bottles of water for 40R. Whatever that is! and thought about giving it to the dog. But they had been hurt before, they may not trust me. I walked past a pack and they barked at me like they wanted to eat my calves. The hawks circle the sky for rodents. I was expecting people to look at me with more intrigue, my ego needed the women to. To get eye contact and smile. Look, it’s a white man, like the ones from the western movies. But they look at me with the same intrigue as they do the stray dogs. I sat by the beach with 25,000 steps in the bank and looked at the dogs that sleep in the sand, in holes they’ve dug for themselves. They might not have all the domesticated dogs have, but they are free, and freedom comes at a cost. I had lunch and it was incredible, and cheap, paired with a long neck Heineken. The waiter asked if that’s mine as he pointed to my brand-new iPhone. I said yes and told him it has a great camera. He said, no, I meant the boy on your background. I said oh no, that’s my nephew and then I tipped him like I was jerry Seinfeld at a New York diner. All I wanted to do was find a place that showed the cricket but no one here gives a shit about the cricket. Half of them didn’t know the word. Kochi, where I am, may be the equivalent to Bali. But still the heightened billion people Indian version. And me, being cultureless and stupid, sees all the brown people as being locals, but as they walk and buy cheap icy poles, they may be on holidays themselves. I walked and gave up on finding a tv showing the aussies play India. I asked a tuk-tuk driver to take me to a bar called Velocity. It was a sports bar that I knew had the cricket on. It was 45 minutes away and he said 300R. $7. I said OK, thanks. He tried to speak to me with broken English and the sounds of the streets humming and beeping. It was like trying to speak to my Pa with his hearing aid off. It was just too hard but he told me he liked cricket.

“Steve Waugh, Mark Waugh!”

“Ricky Ponting?” I asked,

“Yes, he was a very good wicky keeper”

After a while he realised it was a lot further than he anticipated. He told me he got it wrong but it was his fault, there was no guilt put on me from his end. I told him that’s okay and ill give him 500R, an extra $3. I think. When I did he was very grateful and told me he hadn’t had any business today. I felt good.

I walked into the bar and it was pitch black and the cricket was on. There was two hours left. My eyes took about 35 minutes to adjust as I ordered Kingfishers. 650ml bottle for $7 at this top end place. I had three and with the Wi-Fi spent more time on my phone speaking to the riff raff at home then watching the game. I took my first piss for the day around 4pm, which couldn’t be good. I walked home with a 2L beer buzz lightening my steps. The streets were very busy now, they all seem to work a little faster in the later parts of the day. I put my headphones in and listened to music. The walk was about 45 minutes. I saw a midget which was funny. A family with a young boy asked if I was English, I said no, I'm Australian, and they said English and I said, well yeah. They asked for money and I gave the boy 500R. I was rich in spirit and money on the NH 66 in Kochi. A man from a bus looked at me and licked his lips as if was a cartoon. Implying some kind of sex. I pointed at him and laughed and he laughed too. Then when the bus drove off into the busy streets he waved and I waved back. I bought three bottles of water and two take away kingfishers and was home by 7pm. I went to write but all the thoughts were gone. I read and fell asleep by 8:30. I slept well. I woke up and I wrote this. Feeling like I'm where I'm supposed to be.

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