So I finally made it to Goa...Despite the cute guys in the train...(AHH..I can be good at dumb sarcasm)...And the hippie with no chuddi...n the numerous flying cockroaches that got into my food in the train.
Loved the journey. Sat at the door of the train ( mum would have fits ! ). ..Hot, hot air blowing onto my face..Like a steam bath...Nearly died of thirst n exhaustion from the heat ....But the view was worth it. Rustic India. Like something from Ruskin Bond. Only in MY words. Not that id want to say I can write with that enthralling simplicity he has....Just..
And I slept all the way...When I wasn't flirting ( Blah) with the karan- like guy opposite me ( refer to Indian soap) who couldn't or wouldn't stop staring...something..You'd think id grown an extra head in the space of the 5 minutes that he'd seen me..Maybe twas the way I fixated my attention on the Thomas Hardy I was so plugged into.
Flirting is an art. I admit it. I also admit I am an imbecile when it comes to it. You should have seen the way i flirted with Nicky. id be in hysterics if id done my usual " detached watch things as if ur an outsider" thing. And that too when i knew the cat..as they say..is in the bag.