24/03/2011

Arrived in Ahmedabad around 5am after a 9-hour train. Got robbed at the station with a 56-rupee tuctuc (should be no more than 20 but I was treated with a 'night charge') to take me Hotel Cadillac. The place sounded ok for 200 rupees-a-night, but I had officially hit real India.

For this price (under 3 quid), I had a terrible hard, filthy-sheeted bed and dirty cushion for a pillow, dozens of old, deteriorating duvets all piled on a bed behind me and a shared toilet and shower. But toilet in India is a hole in the ground and when you've finished you wash your waste away with a bucket and a shower is a tap from which you throw water over yourself. I wasn't up for that so I held out! On the plus side, I did have a fan and a TV with everything including the cricket and film channels!

In some alley some locals were sleeping and I was banging on the door for them to let me in but as soon as they let me in I was in bed. So after a few hours kip I was back up and made my way straight over to Marc, Wayne and Simon's hotel (the South Africans I met on the plane that I was going to the cricket with) where I had a much needed shower!

I joined them over the road to see Mahatma Gandhi's Ashram. A mildly interesting place on the river in which I saw where he lived for years, prayed, cooked, slept etc.

But then for the real reason I was in Ahmedabad. To watch some cricket. It was a shame we didn't sort our visas weeks in advance else I could have seen several matches in Mumbai for cheap but I scored big in finding a 14-pound tixket to a quarter-final between the hosts and Australia.

One of the guys had Delhi belly so he stayed at the hotel until the second innings but for us others we got a tuctuc near the ground. Walked down a long road with thousands of Indians going mental with flags, horns, shouting and painting one another in the colours of their flag.

Simon and I were starving but lucky for us, and random, some local guy took us to his house with his backyard looking out towards the stadium. All of a sudden the neighbourhood was pretty much sat with us wanting to be in photographs, fetching us a woven bed and putting a duvet on it for us to sit. And then after talking for a while to the guy and the kids, they made us a delicious daal and rice (local, traditional food) and some dodgy tasting milk. So kind of them! Only thing was they wouldn't accept money and then they were asking for our autographs! That's travelling....

We had to scramble as they had kept us so long we were going to be late for the game. But at the gates they did make us miss the national anthems and the first few overs. A ridiculous policy of no cameras and phones! Marc was fortunately doing some journo work for a South African company so he took our stuff away (and later brought it back so I could sneakily get some snaps).

They were top guys the South Africans, older middle-aged chaps but good fun (one of them an orthodox jew if I haven't already mentioned somewhere) and they didn't charge me any extra for the ticket price. In fact I think they gave me some drinks too!

The atmosphere at the game was mental. So many loud Indians going crazy and cheering every run, wicket or just generally if any of their heroes touched the ball (Sachin Tendulkar, Yuvraj Singh or MS Dhoni). Mexican waves, chants, drums and the terrible same one or two songs they played at a break or after a boundary filled the air. I have had enough of the official Indian World Cup theme and "Have you ever come from a land down under", I mean can't they have afforded to play something different!

Simon brought the South African vuvuzela with him as well, and that turned plenty-a-head with the Indians all wanting a go and hoardes laughing at one another when they splurged out a faint noise. I'm glad I wasn't having a go after Simon following the dozens of sweaty chops that had a blow!

I spent most of the game assuring the crowds I wasn't Aussie as they all thought I was! And even when I told them I was English they would just tell me that Sri Lanka would beat us!

On the way home my tuctuc driver stopped on the brige to get directions off his mate who was 6 foot 6 and had to have a photo with me!

I'm learning more and more with the bartering as time goes by. You just almost have to be rude or ignorant at points to get the prices you want because they are always trying to rip you!

Watched The Longest Yard in bed, I miss films!