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Well over my time I’ve tried various types of different massages but this must be one of the weirdest!

On entering thermes de chaves it was like walking into Cocoon, I was the youngest in there by at least 35 years, so, on that basis, I thought its got to do you good. 

I chose the “Douche massage” not to be confused with what that means in the USA otherwise that would be really weird with all these 90 year olds! 

So, imagine walking through a giant puddle and you climb up onto a very high very soggy sun bed with a sponge on top, you’re lying face down & then you get a hot towel thrown over the back of your head. 

Then they turn a shower on over the top of you (albeit thermal water).

Then comes the avalanche of oil so that they can massage you.

It was like having a massage in the pissing rain, whilst holding your legs as steady as possible on the bed so that they didn’t go sliding off with all the oil on them, closely followed by your entire body!

However, all I could think of was, I wonder how long it takes for his toes to go wrinkly plodding around in this puddle all day? 

I forgot to say, you go in with your bikini on so at the end of the massage, god love him, he had to tie the bikini top back on & I did think between all of the water & oil I’ll be amazed if both of the girls are in when I stand up.  However, this was the least of my worries as he shook my head under the hot towel & as I’d forgotten to take my mascara off I skidded my way back to the changing room, due to the amount of oil now in my flip flops, and I looked like a cross between Oor Willie & Alice Cooper! certainly not like the fresh faced 90 years olds downstairs!

All that was called for after that was a glass of Chaves finest!

Sometimes you can travel to places and be there less than 24 hours and it can feel more like a week – Mumbai is one of those places!

On arrival, after the usual bartering over the price of a taxi we’re on our way to what, on Booking.com, looked like India’s version of a Travelodge – Oh Dear God how I wish it was…I think from now on my responsibility for booking accommodation has well and truly been taken away from me.  As we turned off the Road of Death into a back alley – passing the man selling petrol out of water & Sprite bottles we arrive at Fab Hotel – at least I hadn’t booked next-door…they had balconies!

Our previous experience of Delhi hotels comes flooding back and how far the can stretch the truth.

The description on the booking was a Deluxe double room with a view, ensuite bathroom with toilet paper and towels, availability to exercise at the FAB gym and includes breakfast.

Where do I start…Deluxe was a bit of an overstretch, the bedside lamp was held together with a cable tie, I’m not sure what the view was meant to be as there wasn’t a window.  We did however have an ensuite bathroom with toilet paper…all 3 sheets of them (so definitely no shits for the next 12 hours!) and the towels looked like they’d mopped up a murder and then gave them a quick rinse.  We did have the “availability to exercise” in our very own Roomnasium – so sit on the floor and circle your ankles it is then.

At least breakfast should be on time as we’re right next-door to the kitchen.

Time for a wander I think so off we go for a little walkabout, now to say the traffic is mental is an understatement and this is Sunday so everything is a lot quieter, it makes Manila look like a country village, that being said I think we’ll still take our chances with the cars, rickshaws and mopeds rather than the pavements.

Our “stay away from the curries” plan due to lack of toilet paper didn’t last long as we stopped for our 60p lunch – the food by the way is incredible here even if you are eating it in a shithole.  As Richard swallows his 2nd green chilli the sweats and nose running starts so after asking for a napkin he’s handed a page of what is obviously Mumbai’s version of the Shields Weekly newspaper, off he goes wiping away the sweat and blowing his nose only to find the front page news now transferred all across his forehead!

To cool down from lunch and the crazy heat outside its onto the Metro to Adheri – if you weren’t self conscious before you will be after a trip on the Metro and through the Railway station.  I thought things may have changed since the last time we were in a major Indian city but Oh no, we’re still looked at as though the Freaks have come to town.  I’m not sure which one of use they would have thrown into the circus first…me with the short blonde hair or the tall grey haired bloke beside me!

Thankfully, we’ve managed to stay awake until a reasonable time so if we get a good nights sleep the jet lag shouldn’t be too bad…Alas, this was not to be, due to the aforementioned kitchen being next-door and the paper thin walls we heard every kettle being boiled, cup being washed and tray being clattered for people leaving all throughout the night.  We were well and truly awake when our breakfast arrived, Richards cornflakes were gasping for breath in the milk that had been boiled to within an inch of its life (we forgot about asking for cold milk, otherwise everything comes boiling bloody hot).

We make it across the Road of Death back to the airport for the flight to Goa and found the other handy use of the Shields Weekly…I’m assuming they are keeping the sun out of the cockpit and they weren’t giving it a lick of paint.

Only in India!

Namaste.

Its amazing how 5 weeks in Australia can go relatively smoothly but a long weekend in Iceland not so!

So, in search of the elusive Northern Lights its off to Reykjavik for 4 nights on a package holiday.  I can hear my own eyes rolling to the back of my head…I don’t do packages – get on the bus, get off the bus, go for a wee, go see that sight, get back on the bus, sit in the same seat, get off the bus and so its usually continues.

We listened to Tina, the tour guides list of “useful” information from the airport to the hotel – thankfully this is one of the first flights of the day so she’s not sick of her life yet being on tour script repeat, but she did take pride in the fact that Reykjavik is the only place to have a penis museum – Ohh it will be a pretty shitty sad day if we end up in there.

As they had a big snow storm just before we landed it was boots & hats at the ready and out for a walk – Richard managing to find every bit of ice as he made his way into town eventually ending up on his arse just before we made it to the free bus which takes you to Perlan (it’s up a steep hill at the top of the city). I’m not entirely sure Bambi would have made it to the top without breaking his neck…bus it is.

In Perlan theres a planetarium where you can watch a film about the Northern Lights and how beautiful and bright they are – amazing greens, blues, purples, fingers crossed for tonight to see them for real.

We decided, as the sun had come out, to walk back to town – after all it was downhill so it should be easier walking, can you hear the eyes roll again? “Lets take the short cut through the woods” Richard says. Which would have been fine if you’d had a sledge but with size 5 feet and the start of a cold it didn’t bode well, sure enough halfway down the hill I’m flat on my back in the snow and Richards best idea to get me to the bottom was to drag me by one leg.  As he marched the rest of the way down he didn’t realise that he turned me into a human snow plough collecting every bit of snow between my legs – only to turn around and say “you see that was easier wasn’t it?”  I might just ring the penis museum and ask if they want a 6 foot, grey haired cockney as one of their exhibits!

Just enough time to thaw out my legs and onto the bus for the Northern Lights tour and more of Tina the tour guides script of crap.  So, the best chance to see the aurora, theres meant to be no light pollution, clear skies and previous sun shower activity which puzzles me as to why we’ve stopped in a motorway lay-by 50 minutes out of town where you can still see the city street lights!  Then it all becomes apparent as the other tour bus has tried to reverse and got stuck in a ditch – so instead of looking up to the skies willing the lights to appear we’re watching the coach driver revving his engine, trying to bounce the coach out of the ditch, then using the passengers on board as ballast getting them to run to the front of the bus as he has his foot flat on the accelerator in the hope they make it out before morning.

Amazingly, it only takes him 1/2 hour much to the cheers on our bus, we can eventually get on our way.  We end up on the opposite of the city, I’m still not convinced its dark enough but hayho lets get out and look.  After sitting for only an hour and only seeing a very faint milky white arch it’s time to head back to the coach.  I chose the well gritted path… Richard chose the frozen lake – I think the sips of brandy from the hip flask has made him think it was some kind of magic potion and he’s Harry Potter and capable of walking safely over it.  My parting words of “you’re not serious? crack on then!” wasn’t the best phrase to use, it doesn’t take a genius to work out what happened next.  Just as he gets to the opposite side I hear Craaack, followed by “Arghh”, then “can you give me a hand? I think I’ve pulled a muscle, my leg is soaking wet and I have a boot full of water”

We’re last to make it back to the coach just in time to get a luke warm hot chocolate and hear “well they came out for a little bit” Mmmm, no I don’t think so, where was the green, blue & purple? – unless I’m colour blind of course.  Never mind, we’ll see them one day.

Its off to the Blue Lagoon the next day and by all accounts Richard wasn’t the only one to have a mishap the night before, it obviously was dark enough for some as one woman fell down a pot hole and another down a half dug grave!  Just as well they are all off to the healing silica waters, it might mean they walk back like normal people rather than the walking wounded.  2 hours in the boiling blue water, a face pack and a beer later alas not healed but an awful lot cleaner.  We might not have seen the Northern Lights but we were treated to the most beautiful sunset on the way home.

And so it comes to our last day, a shitty sad, rainy Reykjavik Sunday morning – so where else to go? Hello Penises!

So, they are all pickled in jars one from almost every mammal on earth and I had one of my Egyptian moments of thinking how sad it was, these poor animals die and the first thing the Icelanders think of is “do we have one their cocks in our museum”  if not, out come the scissors to lob it off!  Richard then said “well they’re dead what difference does it make?” I might remind him of that when he’s on his death bed and I’m sharpening the kitchen knife.  However, they do already have a human donor pinned to the wall, a Mr Dower – I’m sure he was after the museum staff were waiting to collect his knob completing their card set of Happy Families.

Continuing our cultural day we had early drinks at Bastard followed by a lovely meal in a posh restaurant.  Unfortunately, the restaurant had a lot of industrial beams which my head pin-balled between but thanks to the 2 Bastard beers I’d had earlier – didn’t feel a thing.

And so ends another journey…here’s to the joys of India next month.

I’m taking the 6 foot penis with me this time!

“Short & not so Sweet”

This is a very short post (post 2 glasses of wine! 3 & I fall asleep) 

Sometimes you have these kind of weeks:

1. Go to put your hand on something…not there…where the hell did I put it???
2. We have breakdown insurance…oh no you don’t
3. Fart Shaming someone in the yoga class (not on purpose) then being so embarrassed you make everyone stay upside down for the next 10 minutes. 
4. Include an ex-boyfriend, of almost 30 years,  in a group WhatsApp chat because you didn’t put full names on your phone! 
5. Your husband tries to cheer you up by drawing a cock on your hallway mirror. 

God help the people coming to the workshop tomorrow morning, who knows what mental state they’ll leave in.

Ok, so I’ve realised that I’m not the greatest blogger – I suppose you’re meant to be vey focussed in writing everything down straight away and get it on the website for all to read…yep not me!

Here I am 2 months later after my Bali trip sitting on a train to London, narrowly missing getting concusion every time the train stops at a station as people pass with their bags banging them off the corners of the seats & between the seats…my head.
(Note to Richard – next time you book me a train window seat please, it’s only a little request but a one that would mean I’ll arrive in London next time not looking like the elephant man!)
Ohhh 2nd note – not the quiet coach either, I’m sitting watching a woman spitting her grape pips into a pot with her mouth buried in it so as not to make a sound. Seriously every time I open my handbag I think someone is going to throw me out of the carriage for making too much noise. Did you not learn anything about me after my yoga teacher training?…I don’t do silence well.

Ok, so onwards with the journey, I have everything balanced on the teeny tiny fold down table…iPod (yes the volume is one very low), phone (yes that’s on silent too), notebook and empty coffee cup. Just as a lovely train attendant passes with a plastic bag of rubbish, time to make space on table and get rid of the coffee cup, so I asked if I could pop the cup in – you would have thought I was handing him a bag of shit, the look on his face! Then as he was coming back through the carriage again he stops right beside me & empties a bin behind my seat, trying to be polite I said “sorry I didn’t realise the bin was just there” to which here replied “actually you’re almost sitting on it” Lovely to see people happy in their work.

Anyway, my idea was to update my Bali trip and weird Christmas night out in Newcastle the time I’m on the train – if the thing stops bouncing around long enough for me to write….Watch this space!

Well after years of traveling & picking up a pen and piece of paper every time I do, I’ve built up the courage to share it with more than my immediate circle of friends & family.  Always having the fear that I’m going to end up like the X Factor girl in the Big Fat Gypsy bridesmaid dress, the entire family saying your really good at that when actually your worse than crap!

So here’s me…putting myself out there

I can’t promise to be politically correct, I can’t help it if people match their stereotypes, I don’t mean to offend but probably will at some point!  It is all done with love & bemusement at how people really are.  It’s my journey so far!

Watch this space for the updates…