I moved to India and I finally got a place. I
negotiated to rent the top floor room of a usually crowded working women’s
hostel and it’s alright. As in alllright – not just OK. I was startled to find
out at 5am the next morning it’s right next to a mosque.
I sleep on a hard mattress on the floor. I
shower out of a bucket filled from the only running faucet. I wash my clothes
by hand over a stone slab. The extent of my furniture is an ugly steel bookcase
and a broken plastic chair. I cook from my mini Trangia and own a nice set of
stainless steel crockery for one.
I complete most activities on the floor;
hanging out, cooking, stretching and looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on
the roof, courtesy of the previous tenant. Apart from my mattress there are 3
rolled out woven bamboo mats covering the bare tiles. I try to get around the
room jumping from one to the other like little islands – lest I get swept out
to sea by the torrents running between them.
I’ve got a terrace. It’s good for breakfast
and hanging out my washing. In the mornings and most evenings math tutoring
takes place on the adjacent-terrace-cum-open-air-classroom. I listened for fun
for a few days but quickly got bored – as I’m sure most of the students are
too.
I have daily battles with common household
pests. Those ants get into everything – score currently stands at 3-0. But I’m
looking at options for retaliation. A large bug decided to go swimming in my
shower bucket – I liberated him outside my bathroom window. I’ve got a mosquito
net but it lives on my bookcase so I sleep cocooned in a sheet instead. I’d
prefer it if the geckos talked and I just leave the cockroaches to their own
devices.
The area’s pretty quiet. On my morning
exploration missions I pass by wandering cows and goats, the other day I saw a
donkey. From early dawn local ‘wallahs’ pop up vending their goods – dosa
batter, fruit, milk, yoghurt, tea, coffee, the local paper and jasmine and
roses which I buy to put in my hair. Coconut trees line the streets and houses
are a pretty variety of faded pastels. When it rains there’s varying options
for aquatic sport activities in the street – although it’s best try not to
think about the sketchy sewerage situation.
All-in-all it feels kind of like camping.
Which is good because it’s one of my preferred pastimes. Only now I do it
everyday.
‘Life’s an adventure because that’s the way
I live it.’ – Amber Adams
