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  • Day5

    4) Roadhouse

    December 11, 2018 in India ⋅ ⛅ 27 °C

    We awoke on the houseboat to a lovely breakfast where I attempted to eat my body-weight in toast & jam. Narrowly failing, my effort hampered only by the mathematical impossibility of intake equalling a mass which itself increases in direct proportion to the quantum of consumption, I waddled toward where the car dropped us off the previous day to find the car was not there as expected. Recalling that cars were mobile by design, I deduced it was likely elsewhere so wandered as close as I could to the luxury houseboat company building to pilfer their Wi-Fi so as to contact our travel agent. Connectivity successfully stolen, our car arrived shortly afterwards.

    It transpired that the car would, functionally, be our home/house on the road for the rest of the day. We were in store for a twelve-hour journey as we drove from Kerala to Bangalore. Well our Driver, Mosses, would be driving; cars being single-operator vehicles by design.

    As such, there's little to report in terms of activities. Charlotte and I briefly sang some musical numbers to the extent of our varying abilities and lyrical recollections. I could keep pace with much of the Julie Andrews / Oliver! stuff, but she lost me when she went full-on Phantom of the Opera. David and I enjoyed listening to That Mitchell & Webb Sound from my phone via the car speakers, connecting via USB (the car lacking Bluetooth by design). Charlotte didn't enjoy it, expressing her preference for low-brow comedy scribed by uneducated simpletons to which she can relate.

    As we progressed I perceived a gradual advance in the apparent affluence of the areas we were passing through. This was backed-up by the initially-sporadic then increasingly-frequent appearance of beloved western brands such as Subway, Dominoes, McDonald's and Rentokil. We eschewed, however, the typical British custom of taking a McToilet break and instead sampled the facilities at various other roadside establishments. These occasional stoppages, necessary when all other stoppage had failed, entailed engaging in something of a 'bowel-movement bingo' ; Would there be toilet-paper? Would there be a toilet-seat? Would there be a toilet at all, or a one of those squatting holes I worry I might lack the physicality to actually use, having been seriously neglecting leg-day lately.

    Our only other 'stop' category was those to replenish the stocks necessary to require the former. We purchased and consumed a wide array of snacks to sate our hunger, pass the time and distract from the growing tedium of each other's company. I particularly enjoyed the bar of Dairy Milk Bubbly I bought, which was offered a bulkier and oddly creamier take on the bars offered in England. As a result of thickness, Charlotte initially mistook it for a choc-ice.

    Eventually arriving in Bangalore, we checked into a beautiful hotel where David and I were able to enjoy our first hot shower in five days. Separately, I hasten to add, our flight/room/bed-sharing throughout this week rendering bathroom-moments our only times of actual personal privacy.

    After a day sustaining ourselves on crisps, biscuits and cakes we decided to give our arteries a real run for their money and have dinner at Pizza Hut. Sensibly ordering their most famous dish, David and I's food arrived without issue. Charlotte however ordered some saucy, shaped wheat-dough mixture that arrived cold and wasn't up to much when reheated. Let this be a lesson; all non topped-flatbread offerings are an affront to the Hut's menu and we should vote with our mouths and boycott these imposters (impastas?) and enable demand/supply dynamics to determine their discontinuation. Except Ice Cream Factory.
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