What is it about emerging oneself in a new destination that is so intoxicating and liberating?
With generous scoops of enthusiasm, a pinch of fear, a dash of courage and the willingness to open the mind I loved tumbling in headfirst.
India did not disappoint.

I was truly smitten and swept of my feet. From swooping down into the small airport servicing Kochi to the glimpse of a smile playing hide and seek underneath the customs officer's mightily impressive moustache.

We arrived on Christmas Eve and of course since we were in India did not expect Christmas fever. Pleasant was the surprise to drive past little Catholic chapels en-route to the hotel.
The chapels all dolled up in colourful paper stars and nativity scenes, patiently awaiting the flock for the midnight service. Very pretty and peaceful indeed.

Somehow the peaceful image of the night before was shattered the moment we stepped out the next day. During the course of the night we must've entered a parallel universe, surely it couldn't be the same city we arrived to the night before?

Ambassador taxis, little Tata cars, tattered trucks, flighty three-wheelers all shared the three lane road that was spontaneously altered at will in a four or five lane road - all depending on the skill of your overtaking cab driver. Magic!

Dodging and diving oncoming traffic and the odd cow to the melody of honking horns. Where I've only read of "white knuckles" before I now could bear witness to the act thanks to Tom gripping the seat of the taxi. Best Christmas gift ever!

As for mois, the chaos made me feel right at home - the louder they honk the wider I smile, with every pothole we hit my eyes light up. In retrospect maybe I was just high on gasoline fumes.

By the time our driver/hero let us out of his vehicle with an amiable side to side jiggle of his head I've compiled a mental checklist for the return journey to the hotel.

And it goes like this: -
- Horn fully functional...check
- Three-wheeler able to pop a wheelie effortlessly...check
- Also able to recover from wheelie and land on all three wheels after miraculous act...check
- Souped up horn - a plain honk is just so nineties, we want a jingle from the latest Bollywood blockbuster...check
-Driver able to smoke, honk horn, get rid of excess phlegm and pop a wheelie, ALL at once...check

The joy of exploring the narrow streets lined with crumbling buildings and a makeshift cricket pitch wherever there is space to spare. Indians really love cricket. In fact, whenever it came up during a conversation that I’m from South Africa cricket was the first topic to be discussed at great length.

Oh and the women are so beautiful with their kohl-lined eyes and decked out in a rainbow of Saris or Salwar Khameez. At first I scribbled in my notebook that the ladies look like jewels but it was only when we reached the countryside at the Athirappilly falls that I realised they resembled wild flowers more than anything else. Exquisitely bright, cheery and lending great beauty to this world.

Which reminds me, look closely at the photo I’ve posted - where I'm from a hibiscus flower is either red or pink or a meek orange. Certainly not all three colours at once but in India, well evidently flowers tend to be more dramatic on the sub-continent.

Stuck in traffic while the road is blocked for a state visit of the Indian President once again I realise that it is a very different experience visiting a city compared to eking out an existence there day by day. Made me appreciate life in Singapore even more.

Had the opportunity to chat with a gorgeous gal at the Athirappilly falls who came to visit the site with her family all the way from Chennai. After the usual chitchat about Bollywood movies (since we were on a favourite location) and cricket the conversation turned to career. Turns out she worked as a French translator at an IT firm in Chennai and in her spare time she studied
Greek too. Go girl!
It was evident she lead a hectic life but still treasured and made time for family. I like that.

Oh the food, the food!
Was led into a bakery by my nose and literally swooned at the variety of Burfi and other dainty little treasures bursting with cardamom or nuts or both. Left the shop with a box clutched under my arm filled to the brim with all kinds of goodies to be first feasted upon through the eyes, then whiffed at to appreciate the aroma and only then, only then eaten with great relish. Lots of audible lip smacking happening.

I’m not going to bore you with my ode to Kashmiri Naan or the delights of Tandoori chicken. Nor will I go into just how tender prawns cooked in coconut gravy is. That reminds me of the carrot Halwa and the Mutton Korma and the fiery Vindaloo…

Wait, my eyes are glazing over and I’m dribbling on my keyboard.
Any volunteers wanting to join me on a trip to Delhi – I have a mean rickshaw checklist going.

Oh the places we could see!