The good life

Today we have to leave all this and return to colder, bleaker Delhi. Z and I never went to Gokarna, and never went to Kerala: we stayed here, sped around the backroads on rented motorbikes, and watched the sun set into an ocean so shiny it looked like it was covered with a satin bedsheet.

One day a while back, we were attacked and harrassed by a crazy taxi driver. That was the only blotch on the otherwise sparkling-clean slate of our trip.

We visited the glorified remains of Francis Xavier. One can't see the actual remains, of course -- they're kept in a gilded casket far out of one's line of vision -- but there are some fantastic photographs hanging up next to the display.

I let in my parents on the Kwality Walls ice cream carts' best-kept secret: Butterscotch Cornetto ice cream cones. I started a wonderful novel, "The White Tiger," by Aravind Adiga. I learned how to play backgammon.

I am a happy girl.