Let us pray

Mizoram. Ever heard of the place? Even know where it is? The bloody Victorian religious nutters knew exactly where it was and beat it there hotfoot to “save” the savages from the eternal flames of hell. Bloody upshot is, I can’t get a drink of alcohol for love nor money. Today and everyday, Mizoram is a “dry state”.

Mizoram lies in the far South East of India’s “seven sister” North East states. It’s the border state that is next to Myanmar/Burma. I’ve had to get another Restricted Area Pass to get into the state and even then the police still want baksheesh to let me in. We argue that I’m a friend of Jyoti’s and have come for the world record attempt at bamboo dancing, due to be held in the state in the next couple of days. He accepts that and instead paying 1k /- in baksheesh, he kindly accepts 100/- instead. He’s all heart.

The state has, in the past suffered from more than its fair share of terrorist actions. Now, however, the MNF (Mizo National Front) form a majority party in government and things are all quiet on the western front once again. Because of interfering Victorian do-gooders, the population speak no Hindi, only Mizo and/or English. Imagine that, living in a country and not knowing the national language! The population are overwhelmingly Christian in their beliefs and an Indian face is a rarity, most of the Mizo’s have Thai/Chinese/Burmese features.

So, after breakfast, we were due another six hours on the road from Assam to Mizoram. I say after breakfast because I really never thought it would arrive. How long does it take to make beans on toast and a poached egg? 7.01 I entered the restaurant and it was almost 7.57 when I left. I know my accent is a bit strong, so whilst over here, I do try to pronounce my words as clearly as possible. Dagnabbit, I even got the menu out and pointed to the articles I wanted! He nearly collapsed when I said I wanted a large pot of coffee. “But sir that is almost four cups!” The beans were inedible, the poached egg was fried and the coffee was as weak as maiden’s water. It then took them almost ten minutes to get the bull together. Bugger me they were hopeless.

Four hours later and we had entered the forests of Mizoram. Same twisty roads as Arunachal Pradesh only better maintained. But it really does become wearing leaning to one side then the other, then back again every few minutes. It’s not as though there is anything to look at outside. All that can be seen is the deep green of the deep forest. Despite coming to driving late in life and spending most of my adult life as a passenger, I now really struggle in that position. I can’t concentrate, my eyes become heavy and today I just lay down and went to sleep for a bit.

We were heading towards Aizawl which is the capitol of Mizoram and when I first caught sight, I was damned impressed. It’s built on the ridge of a mountain. Tiny little houses dotted all over the mountainside catching every glimpse of the sun’s heat. I’m staying at the tourist lodge tonight. Aizawl is remote and they’re certainly not geared up for foreign tourists. But the place is clean, there’s running hot and cold water and the little bed looks comfy enough. It’ll do me for one night before travelling onto the border town of Champhai tomorrow.

Safely settled in my room, I promptly go out for a bit of sightseeing. The kids are just coming home from schools resplendent in their 150’s style uniforms. There are great giggles when I walk past a gang of teenagers and howls of laughter when I remarked, “Good afternoon and how are you ladies today?” They loved it and couldn’t wait to try their English out on me. I’d decided to try and find a restaurant mentioned in “The Lonely Planet” guide. But what did I do, instead of turning right, I went left. I had to walk miles with my heavy camera bag over my shoulder, under the blisteringly hot sun. Oh, I could just get a taxi but I wasn’t about to get fleeced by the footpads! So on I marched.

Eventually and I really do mean eventually, I found the place. I was the only diner, the food was average and I was totally nonplussed. So much for being an explorer! It was getting dark by the time I left the restaurant and I really had no idea where I was. Everything closes early in Mizoram, blame those Victorian missionaries again. I still had to get back to the tourist lodge. I had to get a cab. I was convinced I was going to be fleeced as I marched up to an idle cab driver in anticipation. “How much to tourist lodge?” My strong accent must have really been working overtime as he had no idea what the hell I was on about. But with perseverance and actions, those great British traits, I got in the cab and we decided on a fair of 50/- Bloody hell, if I’d have known it was so little earlier on, I’d have had a taxi then, instead of losing three stone trudging the streets of Aizawl, looking for a crap restaurant!

So here I am, back at the lodge. I’ve requested an extra pillow but I’m not hopeful. I received a phone call with the voice at the other end saying, “Housekeeping? Come round now! NOW…..” That was over an hour ago and still nobody. Maybe he’s in the kitchen getting the breakfast recipe for forty minute beans and egg? Ah well, there’s always water for supper tonight. Cheers all!