Dud Sea Scrawls The Writing, clearly, is not on the wall!

Part One is the blog below

“There i am sure some nice guys will get in at this stop.” Our faces lit up with hope.

A look outside and that decided it for us.

“Girls, it’s Sunday, we can’t be here. We have to get out of this smelly bus.”

“LL, it’s your call. What do you say?”

“I don’t want to be here either. But how? What do we tell them? Is it not going to be so very rude of us?”

“Look i would rather be rude than stay here”

“can’t we just get out without telling anything?”

“Noooo what if the oldies start looking for us all over Curepipe. Creepy isn’t it?”

“What do we say then?”

“I don’t know. Let’s get out!”

The three of us, took our backpacks and hurriedly got out of the bus.

“And now?”

“Mads you are sick, i get to stay with you. LL you go talk to the guide.”

“How convenient. I am always the one doing the dirty job. Both of you come with me. But what’s Mads got? What disease?”

“She’s pregnant, she’s going to have a kid.”

“Okai”

I breathed in, and put on a doggy face, approached Patrick, “Hi. Am sorry but I think we will have to cut short our trip. My friend here is not well, She is having the nausea.”

Patrick smiled and in my head i could hear him snigger, liars.

“Oh what’s wrong, will you be okay?”

And then?! That was when Mads rolled her hand on her tummy and declared that she was ill. Her acting was so so ridiculously funny, but we managed not to laugh.

“So i think it’s better we pay you.” On that we disbursed Rs150 each – the most costliest trip ever to be taken by someone from Plaza to Curepipe and that too by the bus.

“I hope you can make it to the next trip.”

“Oh sure, the trois mamelles right. I’ll be there” I replied.

“The deux mamelles actually”

“uh huh.. Okay yes definitely.”

Then we quickly walked away.

“Hold it girls, hold it. He might be seeing us still. Don’t do it.”

Once we reached at least 500m, we burst out laughing till our stomach truly began to ache. We had done it. We had escaped our sad fate, we were so happy. Later when we recalled the story to our friends, they couldn’t believe that we threw up Rs450 on just a trip. The three of us however are so convinced that was the best way we ever spent our money – freedom has truly no price.

The rest of the day? We took a bus, went to Mads place, took her car and went very very far – to the opposite end of the island – to the North. The hiking group was headed South. We spent the day sitting on the beach, watching fake Italians (actually stupid Martians who pretended to be cool), a BEAU with an oldie, and i managed to shout at a kid who threw his football on a stray dog. The kid was apparently related to the fake pasta guy. We got to know about the true identity when the pasta guy opened his mouth and talked to a fake poncho clad woman in Martian. Ah well.

“Hey what was it the guy said about Deux Mamelles? Was he joking or rude?”

“We don’t know, but you are going to find out right? You are going there next week.” And they burst out laughing.

Insight moment: On Mars, we have a mountain called Trois Mamelles. In French Mamelle means Breast. Trois mamelles means three breasts. Deux Mamelles means Two Breasts. I don’t know why they named the mountain so – a heritage from the desperately perverted French. Some humour apparently.