Found out last night that those who were most unhappy about not going to Laos, Tibet and China had booked themselves on a tour taking them through these countries and left this morning. Mas and Mac were returning to the bus in Bangkok but Dave was heading on to Vietnam to meet up with Natalie and then going back to Ausie to sort out her divorce which was getting complicated. Beside them Scooby, Barry, Ben and Doc (Fergal) were leaving to spend a few days in Goa. Sue, Noreen and Mary were heading off to Rajpur and Ted and Gordon were staying in Delhi. So we set out at 7.00am with our depleted numbers for what was expected to be a long journey. However, the journey was fine with enough room on the bus for everyone to have a double seat. We made what we thought was a strange decision to stop in a village to have lunch at an outside café. Samosas washed down with bottles of coke surrounded by all the male village population who could walk. Managed to start a conversation with a group of young lads who got closer and closer until Anne and myself were the only ones left totally surrounded by 30 to 40 villagers. All the others had returned to the security of the bus. The young lads told me through their interpreter that they didn't have time to play football, hadn't heard of David Beckham (thank goodness), didn't go to school and strangely were curious about and liked our names Anne and Peter.
The countryside from Delhi was flat to the horizon and squalid by the road with miles of shanty huts and tents interspersed with shops and stalls selling life's necessities i.e. Car parts etc again. As we got closer to the reserve the scenery changed with lovely rolling hills in the distance and squalor by the road.
We arrived at the Corbett Camp with plenty of light some three and half hours before dinner at seven. We would have been even earlier if we could have found the place and spent forty five minutes stood by the road phoning and waiting for someone from the camp to meet us. However, for a change no rushing to wash and dress before eating. We were sitting in the middle of a camp with flatlets at the bottom of the site, bungalows, with tents inside of them, on the outskirts and a round, thatched roofed bar come diner at the top of the site and all set in a beautiful garden area. Trees, hedges, shrubs, flowers, birds and butterflies everywhere. It looked, smelt and felt like paradise. Normally I would stop there but not on this occasion.
Two hours later we were still sitting surrounded by our bags waiting to be allocated our rooms. The rooms were not ready and although no one else was booked in double rooms were converted to hold four on floor mattresses. Firstly we were shown to a very pleasant, if not a little, minimalist but clean room with air condition and roof a fan. But before I could put my bags down the manager came and we were moved to one of tents inside a concrete bungalow. It was damp and wreaked of deet, the sink was smashed which didn't really matter because there was no running water from either the hot or cold taps and this was costing an extra £30 a night on top of what Ozbus had paid. I was not well pleased and Anne using her diplomacy managed to upgrade to a second story flatlet with balcony looking out on the most beautiful Indian farm scene for further 40 a night. The scene won me over instantly but I was now paying an extra 10 a night for the same type of room we were originally allocated before the manager stepped in. Our room down stairs had now become a four bedded room with the use of floor mattresses. Our room was beginning to lose its attraction, no hot and a trickle of cold water, no toilet paper and no electricity to the air condition unit but it did have the view to die for.
Things got worse at the bar, a bottle of Kingfisher beer cost 150 rupees or nearly 2 while Cocola was only 30. Things were beginning to improve as we sat by a roaring fire in its purpose built pit in the middle of the garden. The food when it came was ok consisting of a selection of curries: chicken, veg and a drinkable lentil one along with rice and naans. After dinner we were presented to Lauren's new game called 'ok whose got my wallet'. Then it developed into 'I know someone has it and is playing a game with me'. This was then followed by 'This is no longer funny guys' Instead of letting our food settle everyone, except me and the lads being accused, were scouring the garden area with torches looking for any sign of Lauren's 30 and credit cards. In an attempt to bring things to a head and flush the prankster out I suggested calling the police. By the time they came in the early hours of the morning we had been in bed for hours. This was the earliest night (10.00pm) Anne and myself have had since getting married. Lauren it seems was awoken by the police who had caught the culprit a young Indian lad who we think worked at the camp. After returning the wallet the police preceded to carry out justice by beating the hand bound, naked lad with the long cane and showing no concern for the lad's screams and crying and the astonishment and disgust of those listening.
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