skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Xmas Eve
Okay so Dennis picks Me and Doris and Mateus(the Swedes) by auto to go to his house near Golden Temple 20 minutes away. He tells me his brothers names are Lenin and Stalin, unusual names for Indian Christians. When we arrive his wife and daughter are there to greet us, and so is the feast of chicken, meat and fish. We bring the drinks, of course non alchohol. We finish the meal at 9pm. the church service is at 11.20pm...so we sit in the lounge with the TV on, the sound down..but the stereo on, with 5 speakers and a dodgy wire. The music is 60's English sing-a -longs.....we sing with Dennis and then I get bored and start making up the dialogue for the Indian soap...the Swedes are in hysterics....just like an Ingmar Bergman movie NOT! Time to go...we walk to the church and pass lit up mangers I feel like I am in LA! Suddenly the church with a hundred fairy lights. Women and saris, on the left and men and Dhoti's on the right...I knew I should have brought my scarf!!!! The bishop is behind a table with blue fairy lights, and two Indian girls with hairy wings stand next to him, I thing they are the angels..Jesus watches on the cross and Mary is in a glass case on the wall. The music is melodic and the sort of thing you would hear in a hotel lounge in Hong Kong not the Taj. Christmas starts with a bang...you think you are in a terrorist war zone....ear blocking time!..crackers going off everywhere, poor dogs and cats!...Then everyone makes for your hand "Happy Christmas, where are you from?" A thousand Indians and 3 Europeans , I felt like the Queen. Dennis is anxious he can't find a car to take us home...so we are surrounded by horny teenagers, touching your hair and shaking your hands over and over again. Suddenly a happy auto rocks up.....we pile in....petrified because of the speed it is going!...we want to make it till New Year. We get home 2.30am...it has been surreal, we are desperate for a beer but Varkala is dead. We kiss goodbye and I walk through the paddy fields, to my bed a la mosquito net. I now have to go and face Sunny who is pestering me I have to tell him my real age and hope it sends him running! He has invited me to his home for Xmas dinner and a bit of rumpy papadam!
Okay so Dennis picks Me and Doris and Mateus(the Swedes) by auto to go to his house near Golden Temple 20 minutes away. He tells me his brothers names are Lenin and Stalin, unusual names for Indian Christians. When we arrive his wife and daughter are there to greet us, and so is the feast of chicken, meat and fish. We bring the drinks, of course non alchohol. We finish the meal at 9pm. the church service is at 11.20pm...so we sit in the lounge with the TV on, the sound down..but the stereo on, with 5 speakers and a dodgy wire. The music is 60's English sing-a -longs.....we sing with Dennis and then I get bored and start making up the dialogue for the Indian soap...the Swedes are in hysterics....just like an Ingmar Bergman movie NOT! Time to go...we walk to the church and pass lit up mangers I feel like I am in LA! Suddenly the church with a hundred fairy lights. Women and saris, on the left and men and Dhoti's on the right...I knew I should have brought my scarf!!!! The bishop is behind a table with blue fairy lights, and two Indian girls with hairy wings stand next to him, I thing they are the angels..Jesus watches on the cross and Mary is in a glass case on the wall. The music is melodic and the sort of thing you would hear in a hotel lounge in Hong Kong not the Taj. Christmas starts with a bang...you think you are in a terrorist war zone....ear blocking time!..crackers going off everywhere, poor dogs and cats!...Then everyone makes for your hand "Happy Christmas, where are you from?" A thousand Indians and 3 Europeans , I felt like the Queen. Dennis is anxious he can't find a car to take us home...so we are surrounded by horny teenagers, touching your hair and shaking your hands over and over again. Suddenly a happy auto rocks up.....we pile in....petrified because of the speed it is going!...we want to make it till New Year. We get home 2.30am...it has been surreal, we are desperate for a beer but Varkala is dead. We kiss goodbye and I walk through the paddy fields, to my bed a la mosquito net. I now have to go and face Sunny who is pestering me I have to tell him my real age and hope it sends him running! He has invited me to his home for Xmas dinner and a bit of rumpy papadam!
No comments:
Post a Comment