Danicng shoes

I awoke this morning all stiff. Not something that happens that often these days at my age. Unfortunately, it was my neck. Housekeeping didn’t show with my extra pillow, so I spent the night attempting to sleep on a folded up one instead.

Still the morning shower was nice and warm and, after doing the bits, I had to go to the local police station. No, I’d not done anything wrong. It’s a requirement of all foreigners to register at the local cop shop. By jove it was a long way away. We’d taken assistance in the shape of the lodge manager. Never have I met a more camp Indian. Even sat in the police station he was trying to get me to look out the window and admire the view. “Isn’t it wonderful? You can see all around Aizawl”, “Oh thank you sergeant, my what a large truncheon you have!” Yes, I made that last bit up but I wouldn’t have been surprised. Bless him, he helped me get registered with the police and for that I’m grateful.

You may remember I was due to go to Champhai? Well, we’ve called it off. The place is only a border town and it takes seven hours to get there and, naturally enough, seven hours back. I wouldn’t have time to blow my nose and we’d be coming back to Aizawl. So it’s Aizawl for us and a good job too!

The annual festival of “Chapchar Kut” occurs every March, to celebrate the oncoming spring season. Mizos dress in their finest traditional dress and take part in much communal singing and dancing. I’m in luck. It all starts today, down on the local dustbowl. The place is packed when we get there. I’m welcomed like a long lost son of Mizoram. I’m even stopped and offered the local rice wine, despite it being a dry state. It’d be rude not to accept but I really wish I hadn’t. The stuff tasted as strong as vodka and I had to sip it out of some dead animal’s horn. Mind you, the reaction on my face had the locals howling with laughter!

It was as hot as Beelzebub’s sauna walking around that showground. Even Jyoti had to call it quits and sneak off to get some water. Like the fool I am, I stayed there to get as many photographs as possible; mad dogs and Englishmen and all that! It was a really jolly atmosphere. Even the VIP’s (I think one was the king? – do they have a king?) were delighted to pose for photographs and even wanted their pictures taken with me. Well, I am rob of Rochdale I suppose! The showground was a complete dustbowl so, as soon as they all started dancing, the dust was unbelievable. If you can imagine the dancing as a great big line dance, with waving arms, you won’t be too far off.

I met back up with Jyoti at 1pm and we decided to go for a stroll around the local bazaars. Though what on earth he thinks I would do with steel water jugs, second hand t-shirts and wheel trims is beyond me. Did I tell you the screaming habdabs were back again? No? Well, picture the scene. You’re in the middle of Aizawl, there are no public toilets. If there was, you wouldn’t want to use them. It’s over 30C and my arse is twitching like Clarissa Dickson Wright at an anti vivisection rally. Nowt for it but to tough it out.

The festival carries on for one more day and tomorrow is the biggie. They are going for a world record attempt at bamboo dancing. You’ve seen it before? Where they put the bamboo on the floor and they all jump in and out of the moving wood. At least, that’s what I’m presuming it is. They’d even produced some t-shirts to celebrate the record attempt and I thought it’d be a jolly wheeze to buy one for myself, Jyoti and driver (No, I still don’t know his name). Well guess what? The Mizos are all so slightly built; they didn’t have any t-shirts in my size. Whaddaya mean “lose some weight then fattie!” So I just bought both Jyoti and driver a shirt. Talk about under-whelmed. I wish I hadn’t bothered now.

Oh, how exciting! I left some laundry today in the hope of it being washed and returned to me today. Joy, it’s just turned up! Clean clothes for the first time in a week! Shall I tempt fate and ask for the missing pillow? Well, I did, so there and guess what… she’s just arrived with one. Wuhoooooooo.

Screaming habdabs or not I’m having dinner tonight; Chicken curry, chips and chapattis. If all’s well, then I should be ok. If not, you might see me on the news tomorrow night, “Dancing English man stuns bamboo dancers with virtuoso performance crossing showground to get to the toilet”