It is with excitement, trepidation and a little elation that
I prepare for my trip for India. My excitement however is not matched by my
preparation. My temporary bedroom looks like an exploded department store with
clothes, books, shoes, electrical goods, cosmetics all over the place and my
empty suitcase begging to be properly packed (I daren’t, I know it won’t all
fit). My bedroom doesn’t however, look like the very thing it probably should:
a pharmacy.
I have bought my preferred shampoo, eyeliner, toothpaste,
foundation, all ‘just in case’ I can’t find them in Delhi, yet I have just one
small diarrhoea treatment kit and one tube of insect repellent. It could be
said that my priorities are a little off. My logic is, everyone gets so sick in
India that whatever I come down with I’m sure the antidote exists too (then
again, experience has taught me that when cursed by a purging illness, it’s
good to have the antidote close by – ideally on the bedside table and certainly
not in a pharmacy any further than ten paces away). I am not a good patient; in
Ethiopia, I speed-dialled the head of a medical school in tears after a bout of
food poisoning; an expat Brit, he said I was the second person in Ethiopia he
had treated after Meles Zenawi, Prime Minister of Ethiopia. Let it not be said
that I slum it.
In case you are wondering, the reason for calling my journal
‘Chronicle of an Adventure Foretold’ is that I like Gabriel Garcia Marquez very
much, but I thought quoting the exact title of his book ‘Chronicle of a Death
Foretold’ might be a little too much; especially for friends and family who are
not yet as delighted as I am that I will be visiting Afghanistan. The term ‘Lady
C’ was coined by a dear friend of mine and I thought it was marvellous. Sadly,
to date he is the only one who calls me this but I’m hoping to start a trend. ‘Finding
Hrithik’ is a term I borrowed shamelessly from a friend who, like any self
respecting woman has a crush on a Bollywood star, in her case, Hrithik Roshan.
She informed me that ‘’there is always one random foreigner’’ in the background
of Bollywood movies and it is quite easy to get scouted in Mumbai. So, I could
be marrying a rich Bollywood film star. Well, that’s the plan. (My hairdresser
was disappointed that a Somali pirate didn’t offer me £5m to stay –
I’m flattered she thought I'd fetch that much).
My preparation for this trip has been hasty to say the
least. I arrived back from Somaliland and my first job was to complete the
treasure hunt to find all the documents required by my new employer; birth certificate,
medical records, national insurance cards, certificates of education, letter
stating clean (i.e. no) criminal record…. the list goes on. Anneka Rice would
be hard pushed to get this lot. I have had appointments with the doctor, the
dentist, dental hygienist, the vaccination nurse, the bank, the taxman, my
tattoist, the hairdresser, (the butcher
the baker and the candlestick maker). Add
in a bereavement, culture shock (pubs, drunk people, drunk people shouting
football slogans, drunk people shouting football slogans along to karaoke
music, public transport – the list goes on) and my first 2 weeks back were not
conducive to preparation for the subcontinent. Oh and don’t even get me started
on the visa process….
Still, friends and family have made my brief sojurn in the
UK a great deal of fun. And I I’ve got the eyeliner and that’s the main thing. I
also have a book called ‘Get started in Hindi’, (I have not got started yet)
and the nice man in Selfridges made the small but necessary correction to my
Hindi tattoo totally gratis. So I’m good to go. I just have to pack…………..
Jai ho!
