Planes, trains and TukTuks

‍Thur 26, Fri 27, Sat 28 Dec 2013

Now Andaman ferry pros, we rocked up at the port with our prepaid tickets ready to hop on the boat from Havelock back to Port Blair. We'd neglected to leave time for breakfast, but luckily had crisps to satisfy us.

After a sad but pleasant boat trip, we walked back to the guesthouse we'd stayed at two weeks prior... Actually, Suzie was a few moments from wetting herself, so we jogged wearily up the monumentally large hill.

They had rooms (and a toilet), so we threw our bags down and locked up, determined to make our last day on the Andamans a good one.

We decided to grab a boat to Ross Island. A tiny little jut of green that used to be the headquarters for the British Army before the war, it was once called the "Paris of the East," filled with ballrooms, swimming pools, and every luxury that could be transported out there.

Without losing its charm, it’s now a derelict island with vines claiming every crack in the dilapidated buildings. It was magical, but an hour up and down the hills was more than enough to see the once majestic fortress.

Frustrated with the Indian tourists who insist on throwing their rubbish at every bit of beauty they can, and generally being rude and arrogant, we were glad to be off the boat. We walked in the direction of town and noticed an aquarium.

"If it's cheap, we'll take a look."

The ten-rupee entry price was in fact very cheap; however, in terms of value for money, it was about right.

The 'aquarium' featured more dead or dying fish than live ones, and the walls were scattered with 1980s-style infographics that didn’t tell you much about the fish. After ten minutes and one small room, we’d seen every nook and cranny and were keen to get connected to the World Wide Web—a wild goose chase that was eventually found, although frustratingly slow.

Back in our rooms and shattered, we decided takeaway chicken was the only answer. I grabbed a tuk-tuk and headed to AFC—Andaman Fried Chicken (no joke). Bellies full, we slipped into a food coma.

Halfway through the night, I got up and found a small but formidable cockroach hogging the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, I decided not to try and hop, skip, and jump around it and went back to bed. Somehow it had managed to crawl under our expertly tucked mosquito net (we had to put this up because it was flying ant day in our room; we had close to 200 flying ants around our bed).

Suzie jumped... Then I felt it crawling over my belly, something I'd feared for a long time. I'm not going to lie, it was horrible, and sleeping was not too easy after that. Luckily, we were so tired we eventually made it back to the land of nod.

A night of wriggling in bed away from cockroaches left us feeling rather unrested, but there was a full traveling agenda to get onboard with.

All packed and ready to go, we kissed goodbye to our Andaman adventure, only to unpack our weighty load at the airport due to some excess wine left over from Christmas. We'd made two rounds through the pre-airport scanners and one through hand luggage security when Jamie realised he'd neglected to pack his Leatherman multi-tool into the big bag. Luckily, we'd made it through, and he didn’t have to give up the contraband.

The flight back was smooth but nowhere near as exciting as the one out there—although the lady next to us, who clearly had never flown before, kept us amused as she asked for assistance buckling up her seatbelt and insisted on sticking her fingers all the way into her ears for takeoff and landing.

At Chennai, we failed to find room in the two guesthouses we'd checked out before and hopped in a tuk-tuk to one just outside the train station.

Some happy belated Christmas Skypes and takeaway pizza were all we could muster before catching up on our lost sleep.

Feeling rather under the weather, we carried our bags to the train station and found our pre-booked beds all the way at the far end of the platform. Booking in advance was a godsend—the train was packed full with Indians traveling back home to Kolkata after their Christmas break.

Our neighbour happily introduced himself and knew us by name (he’d checked the list on the carriage, but for a minute, we thought we might be sharing with Mystic Meg’s Indian cousin—Physic Prabhakar). He was traveling with his large family of 12 and tried to uproot us to an alternative bed where we’d have separate bunks, but we were keen to stay put and explained that we had planned to watch movies and wanted to sit together. If they could find alternative seats together, we would happily move.

The fever I had picked up was getting pretty bad, and I spent most of the journey sleeping and reading. Luckily, I didn’t have to stray from my bed often as food vendors came offering delights such as "bread omelette" and "bread cutlet." These are both sandwiches with the odd yet obligatory extra slice of bread, which sits sans spread or filling on top of the regular sandwich. Even our pre-ordered chicken curry lunch was delivered to our beds.

At the first stop, our neighbour informed us we’d be at the station for 30 minutes, so we could get up and stretch our legs. I remained glued to my bed whilst Jamie explored the minimal offerings of the Tamil Nadu transport hub. My dozing was interrupted as a family of three started to place their belongings in the beds opposite.

"I'm sorry, there's someone sat there," I managed sleepily.

"No. This is my seat. You must be mistaken," the man responded sharply.

I was in fact mistaken, and this was his seat... our previous neighbour had obviously tried to blag his way into our sweet spot under the ruse of keeping his family together and had sneaked in as a squatter.

We mustered enough energy to watch The Great Gatsby and were out for the count.

I woke the next morning in soaking wet fever sheets but feeling a whole world better. The 27 hours flew by and was the best place to embrace a mini flu and rest up.