Madurai.
At nine-fifteen in the morning (prayer time at school) yesterday, my three favourite choir girls rushed into the hostel to call me for one last song. We did 'Sent By The Lord Am I' and at the staff prayer afterwards they got me to do 'Father God', 'I am a New Creation', and 'In Heavenly Armour'. I had to call Podum! because any more and I'd have burst into tears. Again.
I gave more photos to 9b and left this diary behind so they could write me some messages in the back. Everyone got tearful again and I spent as much time with people as I could. We left at 12pm, waving goodbye to Jerry, Yesu and Kumar. Apart from the prayers and the morning, I didn't feel so sad to be leaving. I think the melancholy of the last few days helped to adjust me to the fact of our parting. Now, I've cheered up and have begun to look forward again to our imminent departure on the Greatest Adventure of our Lives (so far). I need to buy a backpack, a padlock and chain and other small essentials like 'soap'. Tomorrow we're going to go to Cumbum for two days then head on to Kochi. On the 12th of March, the Round Trip (proper) starts.
Yet again our move to Madurai has been a shock to the system. Everyone is rushing around, trying to make money, being tourists. We hate tourists. Why do they wear shorts and t-shirts? Why do they wear their money and cameras outside in full view? Why don't they care about India? It's so exasperating when people try to rip us off now - we're INDIAN now, we know how much things are! Last night this old bloke tried to charge us Rs2:50 for a banana! That's 5p! When we argued he told us to go away.
The auto drivers are the worst though. They just won't back down. When we were returning from Kanyakumari one such fiend tried to get Rs60 out of us to go from one bus stand to another. He said it was 10km, it was 4. He said that there wasn't a bus for an hour, we got one in five minutes. He was to horrible, I can't believe an Indian would lie so much.
When we're in Ramnad, people respect that we're working and have been learning Tamil and are doing our best to join the culture. Here, you're a stupid tourist looking at the poor people and desperate to spend money.
It's so lonely here. Our concept of personal space has all but gone and both of us really miss having our friends around. There was always someone to talk to in Ramnad and here we don't know anyone. Pastor Fenn has had so many foreign guests that he thinks we want to be alone. Come and pester us Reverend!
...
A hard day's shopping now over and we're both completely knackered! The stairs in the train station were a real effort which shows ho wthe combination of heat and no exercise has affected us! We met the dodgy little taxi man who sells ganja again and he got very paranoid because I recognised him. He's got a wife and kids apparently, so I said 'good, I won't tell the police this time then!' which put the wind up him and he started calling me talayva1 and things.
I've bought a bag to take travelling, a nice strong canvas one and C.'s got some new trousers. The town's still full of tourists and there's no escaping them. No-one tried it on (ripping us off, that is) and my hair's all gone now. I'm going to give it away.2