Notes from the diary of an Indian in England
Did you know Mevagissey did its fair share in making the world a cleaner place? It was this village that gave us Pears, the transparent bar of freshness that has lathered our parents for generations.
Those who know of Polperro know of it as an exceptionally pretty fishing village on the Cornish coast. That it is. But there is more to it.
It is always interesting to read the comments visitors leave at tourist destinations. They offer a window into the soul of the place, I believe—well, at least into the souls of those who visit. The visitor’s book at Black Head, an unmanned concrete structure the National Trust has built on a cliff-edge not too far […]
Thinking of Jesus, I climbed into the ferry at Fowey Town Quay, paid £2.50 to the captain, and set sail for the distant shores of Polruan which loomed out of green waters some 365 metres away.
If you are a 72-kilo man hiking 14 or so miles a day with a daypack, you need at least 3,600 calories in your system. How do you get that in if you are also on a 20-hour fast?
Jesus is retired now. But for his fans, when the time is right, he is willing to return.
Positano is a town best enjoyed with a thick wad of cash, a healthy pair of lungs, and excellent knees.
How do you capture the sea? How do you capture her sight, her sounds, her smells with words, in mere strings of alphabets?
So I walked on, the sun in my eyes and the sea on my side, along red cliffs bitten away by landfalls old and new. In places the path veered very close to the edge and you could see cracks in the dry earth.
I know no easy way to break this news gently to my English friends, so I am going to come out and just say it: you are more indebted to the Americans than you are aware of.
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