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I had a minor altercation with a French lady today. But before I regale you with my amusing anecdote, let me qualify how I feel about French people. You (should) all know that I spent a year in Paris, that I loved every second of it, that I have many French friends, that I love French people, that I frickin’ devour French food and the lifestyle of ‘les 35 heures’ et cetera, et cetera… However, sometimes I think that they have a serious chip on their shoulder, more than a chip… a whole plate of freedom fries with ketchup and a burger! So the result is that I love nothing more than to take the piss out of them, and do so with glee at every occasion. And I feel smug that I can speak French and can take the piss out of them in their own language.

So here goes… and it’s not even important that this lady was French, the sentinel fact is that she was a gobshite, but the fact that she was French makes it all the more enjoyable for me.

You see, I have been reading a book that friend gave me. It’s called Atlas Shrugged and it’s by a lady named Ayn Rand. It’s fiction but it’s got a philosophical undercurrent which promotes her objectivist and capitalist ideas… She’s all for private property, civil liberties, minimal state, dog-eat-dog, market supremacy etc. etc. So having spent all day reading this book, I was in a certain state of mind… let’s just say that I wasn’t gonna look up the nearest hammer-and-sickle outfit and offer them my services.

I was leaving my hotel to get a rickshaw to the bus station for a night bus to Jaipur. Standing outside the hotel, a rickshaw pulls up with the aforementioned French lady. She gets out and pays the driver. I stand there looking at him, letting him know that he has another fare if he wants it. He asks where I’m going and I say the bus station. I ask if he’ll take me there for 20 rupees (the price the hotel receptionist had told me was a fair fare to the bus station). He agrees and indicates for me to hop in at which the following dialogue begins:

Stupid French Women (SFW): (to driver) Excuse mee, butt ow much does eee wont to pay you?

Me: I’ve offered him 20 rupees to bring me to the bus station and he’s agreed.

SFW: But twontee ruupeeeees is verry leetel… you should pay at leest feefty roopees

Me: Ehhh, he’s agreed to take me for 20 and that’s a fair price for a five minute journey.

SFW: Noooo, eet ees not fair… eet ees too leetel

Me: With all due respect madam, this is a transaction between me and him. It is no concern of yours, I’m sorry.

SFW (getting emotional now): Eet ees verry muuuech my con-sern… I know zis man for a long time… forr five yearrrrss.

Me: Madam, if you would like to distort the local market through inflated prices and to degrade the businessmen through forcing charity on them, then please feel free to do so with your own money, but not with mine.

She stared at me with a blank face and walked off tutt-tutting and mumbling under her breath (she was probably saying Sacre Bleu). Anyway, that pissed me off no end… This is the problem with foreigners in India… you get so many frickin’ do-gooders all looking to work in an orphanage or a slum, either that or you get the spiritual types… A bit of either in small portions is alright, but people go way off the scales here!

I knew that that women was gonna be trouble. I had seen her come into the breakfast room that morning on her own. I looked up from my book, smiled and said: Good morning… She gave me a stupid grin of superiority and said Bonjour in a way that meant: Fuck off, you’re not French! The frenchies always do that: they always say Bonjour. You never hear the Krauts saying Guten Tag, or the Spics saying Buenos Dias, or the Ruskis saying Dobre Dien, or even the Japs saying Konichiwa… but the frickin’ froggies will always say BONJOUR, as if it’s some kind of frickin’ stamp of honour branded into their forehead: I – AM – FRRRRRRENCH… I – SPEAK – FRRRRRRRRENCCCCCCCCCHHHHHH… You expect them to crack out a beret and out into a rendition of the Marsaillaise

Anyway, that’s enough French bashing for today… although it was good fun! No hard feelings to any French people, you know I love you (and your chip)…

Oh yeah, camel trek… great fun. Just two of us, me and an American chap, Joey (his website is here). It was a cool three days: sauntering around the desert on camels, stopping for chai, lunch and dinner, eating and drinking around campfires, sleeping under the stars on big dunes, a sandstorm one night, a scorpion attack the next, desert bugs the size of my fist., stopping in local villages and getting invited to chai, washing at wells… It was really cool. See photos below for da viz-oo-al ill-oo-stration!

Also, I was immensely happy to hear about Ireland’s Grand Slam in the Six Nations. Unfortunately, I could only listen to the first twenty minutes of the match on the net before the only Internet café insisted on kicking me out for the night, but I enjoyed reading about it the next day… sounds like it was a nail-biting match!

Right, that’s all for today. I'm in Jaipur now, the pink city and plan to stop off at a little town called Bundy before I continue to the city of Agra, and the Taj Mahal.

Pour votre correspondent en Inde… a la prochaine ;-)