Varkala was meant to be a bit of r&r time on the beach. Another train journey which started by me accidentally insulting my fellow passengers on the platform as I sat with my flip flops off and my legs resting up on my rucksack. I didn't realize that showing your bare feet is considered very rude here and had no idea why the train guard was gesturing to me so animatedly. About an hour later on the train, Steve realized my mistake, so we won't be insulting anybody else inadvertently anymore. I would however like to do a deal with some Indians, I promise not to show my feet, or even my shoulders or ankles ever again if I can get through the rest of this trip without being accompanied by the sound of phlegm being violently drawn up from the stomach, and hacked through the throat and mouth and being spat out in one long drawn out action, with a nice long pause between the first wretch and the spit to ensure it's all exited completely. The sound of this really is everywhere, and there is no concern or delicate covering of the mouth, it's like a rite of passage for men, and the louder and heartier the better. I've at least stopped gagging when I hear it, and i haven't had to suffer like a girl we met this evening who was inadvertently spat on by such a phlegm removing action.

India is really dirty. The train stations in particular are filthy, the railway lines are toilets, as is the ocean and the streets are covered in rubbish and crap everywhere. I've found it quite hard to deal with sometimes as nobody here seems to mind and I wonder if I'm just being shallow and spoiled by coming from a country where generally, people get pleasure from a clean environment.

Pollution and population I suppose come hand in hand and over the last few weeks, we've both really started to appreciate what 1 billion people in a country is like. An average 324 per kmsq, and up to 9,294 in Delhi[1]. Sometimes it feels like half of that billion is bumping into you or hacking their guts up, or offering to sell you tiger striped ear muffs (god knows where that peculiar affection for ear-wear came from). I went to grab a handrail when we were on a train the other day but there was no space there as it had been taken by a man's foot who was sleeping on the 3rd level bunk. It didn't really help my existing repugnance for other people's feet.

I wouldn't say India is our favourite country so far but it's certainly one of the most interesting. Even queues are interesting and possibly one of the reasons that women aren't standing up for equality between the sexes. At railway stations and I think any place where you need to queue for something, the lines are often huge. However, there is more often than not another queue for the those who can't cope with all the hecticness of the station: senior citizens, the disabled and us weak women. It's all a bit sad really, though it does help us get train tickets quickly.

Which leads me to husbands and the frequent question that we both are asked; "are you married". I originally just thought it was out of polite interest but the question has been asked so frequently that I think there is some deeper reason for the enquiry but I haven't worked it out yet. Perhaps it's just trying to work out whether I am in fact a heathen. People don't have any qualms about asking us as complete strangers quite personal questions either, such as "how much money do you earn, how much rent do you pay, why don't you have children". Listening to Steve try to respond to the question about how much money he earned to a man on the train was quiet entertaining as the whole carriage listened on.

When we're not discussing our personal lives with strangers, we entertain ourselves by playing 'first to spot a man without a moustache'. It can take a good few hours to win and the facial hair ranges from mini goatees to some splendid handlebar moustaches. Steve's current facial growth ensures he fits right in.

Other great entertainment is the TV which is provided in many of the hotels, and there are so many Bollywood films to choose between but cheesy love stories are pretty much the only storyline. There's lots of ESPN to watch the football on too which I'm obviously massively excited about. There are also a great number of adverts, an awful lot for skin whitening cream with 'Ponds' showing through a series of computer generated effects that all you have to do is exfoliate your skin and your 'natural whiteness' will be shown within just 6 - 8 weeks. Pretty shocking. There are also some great adverts for learning English such as the one that promises '100% superb English fluentzy'.

Anyway, this is meant to be a blog about Varakala which is a basically a backpacker village set along a clifftop with a couple of small beaches which we spent a few hours sunbathing on. Unfortunately though, having applied what we believed was sunscreen, Steve spent the next few days having cold wet towels draped over his chest to cool him down from some pretty bad sunburn. The cream we'd bought had no sun protection in it whatsoever. We will buying Nivea from now on. More digestive issues which I won't go into also spoiled our time here a little bit but it was nice to relax and have some western meals, especially for breakfast when neither of us really fancy curry.

[1]Thank you CIA World Factbook for these statistics which also tells me there are six neighbouring countries, to which I challenge my geographically minded friends to name….