Good morning, good afternoon and good evening readers,

It’s never that different when you drive out of an airport. Each country has the same slightly baron, slightly built up, slightly overgrown, slightly scorched grass, kind of “why is everyone awake at this time?” sort of feel to it. Kochi is no different. Whilst this first impression was very familiar to me, the events that proceeded after had me feeling very overwhelmed. These are my accounts:

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I’m in my room now and it’s not too dissimilar to Armenia .. except OMG what the fuck is scratching at my window!?!? … No you can’t come in. There are so many noises. This weird whistle call, familiar crow screeches and some man walking around banging pots and pans.

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This morning I slept until 2pm, mostly because I went to bed at 6am, so swings and roundabouts. I didn’t have any anxiety yesterday and now all of a sudden it’s hitting me. What on earth am I actually doing here.. like really!? I decided to focus on one task at a time.

First step: get washed and ready. That’s easy, I do that at home.

Second step: start procrastinating and write this blog entry to avoid the fact that I need to actually leave this room and sort some things out.

Third step: Sort out my money belt, which actually is important.

Fourth step: Put my shoes on. You’re really milking this now Charlotte.

Fifth step: Step out that door, dammit Gina!

Arghh I’m soo nervous. Just push through it.

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I signed in at the homestay and then asked how to get to Fort Cochin. Johnson’s wife (of Johnson’s homestay) didn’t speak much English so she just told me to go right. So I did. I walked right and kept walking even though I wasn’t sure right was right. Then I saw some white people and thought, here we go, jackpot. During my stalking a rickshaw driver asked me where I’m going. I tell him I need money and a SIM card. Obviously I’m going the wrong way for that. So he takes me on an essentials tour with a pit stop for food.

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Sat in the restaurant opposite me were two English people, who didn’t even smile at me. Not a crack. That’s when I started to realise I was on my own and the loneliness crept in. It’s very overwhelming when loneliness comes knock knock knocking on your door. Eating my weird Indian wrap thing, I just wanted to cry. Not from sadness, but from the realisation of what I’m actually doing. But as I write this, I start to realise how proud I am of myself. That I walked into town, got an Indian rickshaw driver to help me on my errands, had food in a restaurant where I didn’t know what anything on the menu was and returned safely back to my homestay. I might have a good cry tonight. But ya know what, I’ll be patting myself on the back whilst I’m doing it. You go Glen Coco, four for your Glen Coco!

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The rickshaw driver picked me up at 10am today. He drove me to so many different places. One place was the site were the Dutch army used to get Indian people to wash their clothes. Cheeky init. This guy asked me to take a photo of him.. so I did.

I ended up back in the same restaurant as yesterday and felt exactly the same. It was all too much and I nearly cried into my Biriyani.

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I’ve ditched the rickshaw driver, I have a map and I’m walking to beach. Now I’m on the “hipster” street.. yes they really are everywhere .. having a peanut butter milkshake. Not very Indian but I don’t give a shit. After many close shaves with major meltdowns, I’m going to sit in this cafe for hours and be content about it.

In overwhelming bursts,

C x