A Girl's Guide to India!

Jeez guys, the homies at the Travel Channel are taking so super long to recognize my potential as their next travel show host… Ugh, don’t you just hate it when people don’t let you live your best life? So in an effort to idle away the time until stardom I have compiled “A Girl’s Guide to India”.

If you know me or my blog, you may already know that two years ago Tommy and I went to India for six weeks of so much of everything.

But real talk, if you know me even a little bit then you definitely already know that since I find it really, really hard to not talk about it.

See here and here… Also here and here for proof.

For me, it's like going to the moon and not talking about it – crazy. It is the single most amazing place that I have ever experienced. Of course I’m going to blab about it. I think that if I was a person that I hated then I would say something like “sorry, not sorry”.

For starters, India is a perfect example of why we are born with senses. With so much to see, hear, smell, taste and feel, the physical human experience is alight in India. So much so, that I kinda miss it, a lot. Even though it was two years ago, I still think about it often. I have travelled quite a bit (for a broke-ass person) and no place has hit me like India. That’s the thing – it fucking knocks you out. In the best possible way.

Other holidays kinda fade from my memory and exist like snow globes that I can shake every now and then and say “shucks that was nice!” But India stays with you forever and as cheddar-cheesy as it may sound, your life is better for it.

That being said, I wish that I had known a few things before we embarked on our Indian adventure. 

It is a good idea to plan. Well, who would have thunk it?!

This might seem super obvious but we’re not really planners (too much effort and stuff). So we arrived in India with six weeks ahead of us and only accommodation in Delhi organised and a flight to Leh. Big lols.

Once in Delhi, we promptly found a somewhat dodgy travel agent who booked the rest of our trip. So it wasn't really bad at all, but still. Also, the travel agent's office was so fucking hot (it was a thing, okay) and we missed out on visiting certain places simply because the travel agent wouldn't make any money from it. I really wanted to go to Pondicherry because of the Life of Pi, but the travel agent was like “nah bish” and booked us a multi-city tour starting in Delhi and ending in Fort Kochi. I wasn’t exactly unhappy, but I was naïve. I should have insisted on Pondicherry (and Jodhpur) but alas, now I just have to go back.

Pack tampons.

Before I went to India I thought that the retail experience was standardised. I thought that I could just run into an Indian version of Woolies or Clicks and that would be that. Well, like I say almost every day… I was really wrong. 

Shopping is weird. Like good weird, but weird. I never did find tampons but I stockpiled like the apocalypse was nigh so it was fine. Okay, disclaimer: I am definitely not saying that there are no tampons in India. Haha – why would I do that? I’m just saying that I couldn't find them.

Don’t be an asshole like me, don’t pack short anything.

Okay wait, you can. Go ahead! *whistles past* But you will be a social pariah. I know because my milky-white legs made me the belle of the ball and not in a fun way. 

Also, here's a good one: wear a bra. Jeez Louise! I dunno how my mind works sometimes. I mean, I was hot, like fucking disco-inferno hot. So naturally I thought that it would be a swell idea to go bra-less. Needless to say, it rained. Needless to say, I can't show you any photos except the above from the day that I LIVED MY DREAMS AND WENT TO THE TAJ MAHAL because I didn't wear a bra and my boobs are saying "hi" in every photo. 

Don’t take Tripadvisor etc. too seriously.

Sure, websites like the above can be informative and helpful. Also, they make for fun reading if you’re into terrible spelling and photos of sun burnt Brits. However, they also have a sneaky tendency to make everywhere in India sound like it sucks.

I remember once I was so angry at Tommy (he was super into Tripadvisor) because he innocently read a review of our hotel in Agra before we arrived. He then proceeded to inform me that we should be on the lookout for “excrement and blood” on the bed. I wasn't as angry at him as I was terrified of the bed when we checked in. After inspecting the bed and finding nothing it was still difficult to sleep easy with the double-disaster “excrement and blood” flashing in my mind.

Don’t become a sweaty pseudo celebrity like me.

So here’s a fun fact, in India, I was like hot-shit. People, namely men, wanted to take photos with me (a lot). Like they didn't even care that I was sweating like Hunter S. Thompson. At first I was okay with it, but then it descended to a weird, creepy-level that now makes me think that photos of me are crumpled up in someone’s spank bank. Also, not so fun for boyfriend. So yeah, just don’t do it.

Don’t wear makeup.

Granted, we went in summer so I can’t vouch for any other time of year or any person who has normal heat responses (sweating is an unfortunate pastime of mine). But still, I have never, ever been so flippin’ hot in my life. Makeup is a farce. The best you can do is tie a really, really tight pony-tail and edit those photos like it’s Kimye’s wedding. As you can see in the above photo, I was not joking about photo editing. Homie don't play that, yo! 

I'm thinking of doing A Girl's Guide to Paris and Ireland next. But it might take like a month. In related news, travel sponsorships are welcome!