Sometimes love doesn’t feel like it should.

So after the recent events, Doug and I decided to part ways for a little while. He took off with his girlfriend Sarah for a while, dirty weekend on the canals. And I stayed in Varkala to help a Scotsman by the name of Mark buy a bike. Doug and I had organised to meet in Rajisthan, in the north, and Mark was going to join us for a week or two but in Varkala he fell for a German (girl) and set of to chase her in Chennai.

Leaving Varkala beach, was pretty difficult. I met some great people there, had some great conversations some even with beautiful girls. We left by the coast road which runs between a canal and the beach. Palm trees, waves crashing. Paradise.

I did a cruise on the canals with Mark, not quite as romantic but pretty damn good then headed to Fort Cochin for a couple of days before heading North. Fort Cochin just felt like a different India, everyone was relaxed and helpful really chilled. There are these amazing trees there, they are huge and just emanate peace. Across the road there was a large oval and everyday the young Indian guys would be out there playing cricket. I sat there drinking a beer, with the trees, watching cricket being played in India. Felt right.

By the way I had a go and hit a four for Australia.

Riding around Fort Cochin on my bike just felt great, you feel like a bit of king, you might look like a cock but too bad and all the Indians stare at you. If you stop, they touch everything. You, the bike, your bag, I dont know why but they seem to get something from the experience.

But anyway to get to the North I had to put a my bike on a train to Delhi, this was a harrowing ordeal. I am getting really attached to my bike, I miss it if I have to put it into the shop, I dont like other people touching it and leaving it with other people stresses me out. Ill be honest and say it, I’m falling in love with my bike.
So having to entrust my bike to the rail guys was not enjoyable, I had heard horror stories, Doug had even told me that when his bike had come off the train, they had broke a mirror and he was lucky, another guy had his whole front wheel smashed. So I payed the guys extra to be careful and then jumped on the train, praying to the God of motorcycles that travel on trains, I think he’s called Sanjeev.

The trip was pretty uneventful, I did get in an argument with the conductor because I had asked for a cabin and they gave me an open berth, It wasn’t his fault but his way of dealing with situation was just to repeat himself every time I began to speak, with the stress of the bike added to his behavior I was going to snap until another Indian helped calm things down, which was appreciated. Sometimes you just want someone to listen.

So after two exciting days on the train, Valium helps with this kind of ordeal by the way, I arrived in Delhi and get of the train. I ask the rail guy where my bike is and he points me to the other end. I lug all my gear down the other end. No bike.
I’m telling myself to remain calm but there is no sign of my bike. I walk back with my gear and the guy says it musnt be on the train. What do you say? This is just India. Finally I meet another guy and he tells the porter to help me and we get to the other end, where there is one locked carriage, they open it up and inside my bike with a couple of new scratches and littles bits of green paint on it.

I never want to do that again but at least I have my bike.

Ben.

Loading my bike.