After finishing lonely Canelloni in Fort Kochi's Art Cafe, I took off to the beach to have an ice cream and a coconut. A random opportunity approached to go for a spin on a random gent's scooter. He owns a clothing shop in the tourist section of Fort Kochi, but apparently didn't own the scooter. We went out, I purchased some off-sale beers on a promise we were great friends, and he would of course return the deed Stopping off at many large groups that after a couple minutes of banter became J's "best friends". After rolling about 10 cigarettes to give our large group of friends, it was time to head back to the homestay. 5 minutes too late. The police arrived with many questions, and failed to recognize my driver's license as a valid ID in India. This is important for the police to believe, as they can now confiscate the scooter, following some made up law (all laws are made up) that those types of scooters are not allowed after a certain time, or something as equally ridiculous.
A bit more communication leads to one of the men in a sandy brown suit telling me to go home, so I started to walk what was going to be a 4km run/jog/hide back to my homestay. A man on a 150cc sport bike drives past me slowly, stopping 50m ahead to take a better look. I asked for a lift, and we raced through the empty streets, managing to stay ahead of bright jeep lights. Safe and sound at the homestay, lucky me.
Unfortunately for me, J and I left on his scooter after the beach to drop off some of my valuables at the homestay, and his memory still served him after he had claimed many times it was failing him because he drank so much. I popped out of my room still high on adrenaline to cool down, and heard some loud voices walking down the driveway to mi casa. I tried to calm them down so we could discuss what had happened, and found that they wanted me to come to the police station with them to get back the scooter. After I had left, the police drove their scooter to the station. I was in no mood to leave with the loose cannons who both stumblingly threw a few punches my way, only hitting my chest. His English wasn't great, and my Hindi/Malayalam isn't that great either, so his next step after changing from "friends" to "fists of fury" was to pick up a rather large rock, at which point I decided to sprint up the stairs to my room, dropping my headphone cord on the way.
I've been in here for a couple of hours, and the yelling subsided perhaps 20 minutes ago.
I really want to get my cord.
A bit more communication leads to one of the men in a sandy brown suit telling me to go home, so I started to walk what was going to be a 4km run/jog/hide back to my homestay. A man on a 150cc sport bike drives past me slowly, stopping 50m ahead to take a better look. I asked for a lift, and we raced through the empty streets, managing to stay ahead of bright jeep lights. Safe and sound at the homestay, lucky me.
Unfortunately for me, J and I left on his scooter after the beach to drop off some of my valuables at the homestay, and his memory still served him after he had claimed many times it was failing him because he drank so much. I popped out of my room still high on adrenaline to cool down, and heard some loud voices walking down the driveway to mi casa. I tried to calm them down so we could discuss what had happened, and found that they wanted me to come to the police station with them to get back the scooter. After I had left, the police drove their scooter to the station. I was in no mood to leave with the loose cannons who both stumblingly threw a few punches my way, only hitting my chest. His English wasn't great, and my Hindi/Malayalam isn't that great either, so his next step after changing from "friends" to "fists of fury" was to pick up a rather large rock, at which point I decided to sprint up the stairs to my room, dropping my headphone cord on the way.
I've been in here for a couple of hours, and the yelling subsided perhaps 20 minutes ago.
I really want to get my cord.
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