Bono Esdente mes amigos. Fefefefefefe Chris Waddle.
So,
hier, we went for a trip to see the remote Kurumba tribe. The drive there was something else, greenery abounded in the foreground, splashed all over the rising hills and mountains, while in the distance far below us the great plains opened out to the East as far as the eye could see. As we got closer to the Kurumbas, the tea plantations began to mix more and more with jungle foliage, and the road got bumpier and bumpier, until finally we were lurching up a collection of flattened stones that stretched the definition of a "track" to the limits.
And so the last bit on foot, up to the Kurumba village. We arrived as the sun disappeared over the high cliffs behind us - those very same cliffs that the "honey hunters" of the Kurumba tribe scramble down fearlessly every year to collect wild honey, supported by nothing more than a hand-bound vine ladder and armed with nothing more than a smoking branch and a basket. What would the village of these fearless people look like?
Actually, it was
fairly normal. The Indian government has seen fit to provide investment by way of permanent concrete housing and electricity. Whether the Kurumbas wanted this or not I'm not too sure. One thing is for sure though, had we come here fifty years ago things would have been a lot different. For one, I wouldn't have even been born, so there would be some kind of weird time travel paradox thing going on. But, putting that to one side, you could imagine how much things must have changed for the Kurumbas over recent years. Gone was the nomadic lifestyle, where the tribe would uproot and relocate after every tribal death. Gone were the traditional bamboo huts which served as a more temporary form of accommodation with this nomadic lifestyle. Now they even had mobile phones.
In fact, that was one of the things we were here to see. The new Nokia 360i with its fully functioning built in microwave was a sight to behold. No, I mean the bamboo hut. Keen to preserve their cultural heritage, the Kurumbas had, with help from Keystone, undertaken a project to contruct a traditional bamboo hut. We looked round, it was pretty cool, and sturdy enough to survive the couple of testing shakes I gave it.
As night fell the jungle got progressively louder. There were elephants and leopards around, so I was told, but I wasn't lucky enough to see anything like that. There
was, however, a man-eating chicken on the way back up through the village. That joke works best when spoken - I find the hyphens just get in the way when typing.
On the way back up from the village, and just after we had got back on the tarmaced (?) tarmacced (?) tarmacked (? - how on earth do you spell tarmaced? Hang on a sec, I'll google it....)
tarmacked road (doesn't look right does it?) I was amazed to see a bus. Not that I'd never seen a bus before you understand - I wasn't sat there agog like a village idiot at this "magical iron beast" - rather, I couldn't belive they had a bus service in the @rse end of nowhere. Puts the English public transport system to shame, were my initial thoughts. But then thinking about it, most people in the more affluent England can afford cars. Plus, the Indian buses are used a lot by the tea pickers, whereas agricultural work in England is more mechanised. So, thinking about it, I realised there is less demand for public transport in England, hence less funding, and less point. Still, the Indian bus system is impressive nevertheless.
And there's me banging on about the merits of the Indian bus system versus the English one. I imagine I'm boring you all to death, and you're glad I'm not around around to regale you with stories of paint drying as we share a pint. On that note, I'll take my leave and bid you farewell. Oh, and here's a photo of a bus just in case you weren't sure what one looks like. (And yes, it does look like it's about to crash into a wall - how
exciting!!)
Help! We are under attack from little kids! The campus is crawling with them! I first noticed this morning when three of them mysteriously appeared at my shoulder dungeonmaster-style, but now they seem to be propogating exponentially. There are about 20 now, at this rate they will soon number a hundred and become unstoppable! 
Yesterday was the big office monthly meeting, so we all piled into jeeps at 6:30 and set off for the village of Pillur. I was full of medication to combat my cold and spent the 2.5 hour journey to Pillur drifting in and out of sleep, smacking my head against the window every time I dozed off and we went round a corner.
