A little over a year ago I landed in Suryapet unaware that I’d be leaving it sooner than the mandatory three years gap between transfers. I had been promoted and since I didn’t mind a field posting I was packed off to Suryapet to work in a training centre. After nearly eight years working in offices I was actually looking forward to a stint in the field. There’s nothing like a field posting to make you see the realities and since my job involves traveling in villages I got to see all the reality I could handle. In the field one learns more in a month than one can learn sitting in an office for years. So I was glad I was once again back in the villages amongst farmers. However, like before I had to stay away from the family. But it was worth it.
Normally, though I am a bit of a sentimental bloke, I am not as sentimental about places as I am about people. There wasn’t (and isn’t) anything in Suryapet to feel mushy about but somehow it made me sad about leaving the place. A couple of months ago I had an inkling that I’d be moving out of Suryapet. In fact, our training centre had shifted to Nalgonda sometime in the beginning of July. Though the office was in Nalgonda I had my house in Suryapet where I dropped in at least twice a week for a day or two. But it was getting a bit too tiresome going to Nalgonda from Hyderabad and then again to Suryapet to make trips to villages where I had work. At Nalgonda I felt restless, at Hyderabad I felt a bit anxious but whenever I was in Suryapet I experienced a different feeling- one of relaxed calmness,
Maybe it was the absence of the noise and clamor of Hyderabad but I felt at peace in Suryapet. I had a simple routine there. Being an early bird I would get ready and walk the few steps to my regular hotel where the owner had tea ready for me along with the day’s newspaper. Then I’d leave for the villages and return in the evening only to go on another long walk for a cup of ginger tea at Anand’s. The walk would take me through half the town past garages where mechanics repaired tractors, past shops selling filtered water in large plastic cans, past pushcarts selling fried snacks and finally arrive on a main road. This was a peculiar road because on both sides of the road were clinics of various kinds of doctors, diagnostic centers and medical shops. There were ENT surgeons, dentists, orthopaedicans, children’s doctors, and such medical people on that street which was always busy. After a two kilometer walk the ginger tea at Anand’s felt wonderful.
I miss the ginger tea at Anand’s but more than that I miss the unconditional generosity of the people of this small town. I still cannot forget what happened one day when I happened to reach Suryapet late in the night. I got down from the bus at a stop from where it was about fifteen minutes of walk to my house. It was around ten when I started to walk lugging a heavy bag. The town had shut down and there were no autorickshaws. The bag felt heavy and I was tired after the three and hour half journey from Hyderabad. Then suddenly I heard the sound of engines from behind. I turned around and saw three motorcycles approaching. I walked on disappointed that it wasn’t an autorickshaw. Then the bikes stopped when they neared me. I was a bit wary because I was at an isolated spot. Then one of the riders called out to me to get on the bike. When I heard him call out ‘Saar’ in a drunken voice I was a bit worried. Then told me he worked in a local government office and said he recognized me. He asked me to get on the bike. But he drove normally and dropped me right near my house riding away before I could say thanks. I did not know who he was but he simply did what he felt was his responsibility to get me home. It left me feeling grateful for these small town folks.
Sometime last week I packed my things and moved out of Suryapet. Now I am in a different posting about which I hope to write in the next post. I wonder when I will get to visit Suryapet again.
Showing posts with label Small Town Snapshots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Small Town Snapshots. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Sage Advice
The problem with sporting a beard is that it not only affects the appearance it also affects perceptions. In some people (like me) a beard lends an undeserving gravity to the face making one look like someone one really isn’t. I know it from experience. People have told me that they thought I was a scientist or even a professor judging from my appearance. I am routinely mistaken for someone of the thinking class who spend more time thinking than doing anything concrete. To the world most of the bearded ones appear like they know the solutions to a lot of problems. That must have been what someone in Suryapet recently thought about me when he approached me for advice.
The hotel where I eat regularly is a rented one and one day the hotel owner introduced me to the landlord who happened to work in the municipality. Whenever we meet he greets me with a great deal of respect that I feel I do not deserve. The other day I noticed him waiting for me to finish dinner. I felt he had some work with me. I am in a post where I am not in a position to help anybody in anyway. However after I finished my dinner he approached me in that manner subordinates in government service do when meeting officers. He said he wanted some advice, which was something I give a great deal to farmers whether they need it or not. It is my job. So I thought he wanted to know which crop he should sow or something of that sort. Or maybe he wanted to know about some government rule. But I was completely taken aback at his question.
The landlord wanted to know if it was advisable to have a cell tower atop his building. He asked if the cell tower had any effect on people’s health. Since my knowledge of anything connected with cell phones, computers and the like is rather limited I wondered what to tell him. I had read somewhere that the radiation from cell phone towers is dangerous to one’s health. Only the other day I had watched a breathless anchor on a national news channel go around with some kind of a measuring device in her hand and shriek how dangerously high the radiation levels were in places near cell phone towers. The next day one of the local Telugu channels did an exactly similar program which is what our Telugu channels are rather good at. They don’t have a single original program and always copy ideas from the national channels. Anyway, all that watching of television came in handy when it was time to open my mouth and dispense advice to the waiting landlord.
I told him the same thing- that the radiation from cell phone towers is dangerous. He pondered for a while and thanked me. I was relieved he did not ask me further questions about how dangerous it was and which part of the body the radiation affected. I had the answer ready though and was ready to tell him it was the brain that got affected. The next morning he appeared while I was having breakfast. I thought he would tell me that I was wrong. But he told me following my advice he had refused a mobile phone company’s offer to set up a tower on the terrace of his building. He told me they had offered to pay him a rent of five thousand rupees per month. But he was willing to forego the rent rather than face the dangers.
I felt he was suitably impressed by my advice because he thanked me profusely like I had saved his family’s life. I had not expected him to take it so seriously considering five thousand rupees is a lot of money in these areas. It was one of the few instances when someone had taken my advice very seriously maybe because of the beard.
The hotel where I eat regularly is a rented one and one day the hotel owner introduced me to the landlord who happened to work in the municipality. Whenever we meet he greets me with a great deal of respect that I feel I do not deserve. The other day I noticed him waiting for me to finish dinner. I felt he had some work with me. I am in a post where I am not in a position to help anybody in anyway. However after I finished my dinner he approached me in that manner subordinates in government service do when meeting officers. He said he wanted some advice, which was something I give a great deal to farmers whether they need it or not. It is my job. So I thought he wanted to know which crop he should sow or something of that sort. Or maybe he wanted to know about some government rule. But I was completely taken aback at his question.
The landlord wanted to know if it was advisable to have a cell tower atop his building. He asked if the cell tower had any effect on people’s health. Since my knowledge of anything connected with cell phones, computers and the like is rather limited I wondered what to tell him. I had read somewhere that the radiation from cell phone towers is dangerous to one’s health. Only the other day I had watched a breathless anchor on a national news channel go around with some kind of a measuring device in her hand and shriek how dangerously high the radiation levels were in places near cell phone towers. The next day one of the local Telugu channels did an exactly similar program which is what our Telugu channels are rather good at. They don’t have a single original program and always copy ideas from the national channels. Anyway, all that watching of television came in handy when it was time to open my mouth and dispense advice to the waiting landlord.
I told him the same thing- that the radiation from cell phone towers is dangerous. He pondered for a while and thanked me. I was relieved he did not ask me further questions about how dangerous it was and which part of the body the radiation affected. I had the answer ready though and was ready to tell him it was the brain that got affected. The next morning he appeared while I was having breakfast. I thought he would tell me that I was wrong. But he told me following my advice he had refused a mobile phone company’s offer to set up a tower on the terrace of his building. He told me they had offered to pay him a rent of five thousand rupees per month. But he was willing to forego the rent rather than face the dangers.
I felt he was suitably impressed by my advice because he thanked me profusely like I had saved his family’s life. I had not expected him to take it so seriously considering five thousand rupees is a lot of money in these areas. It was one of the few instances when someone had taken my advice very seriously maybe because of the beard.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Six Months in Suryapet
It isn’t such a small town though I keep calling it a small town but it isn’t very big either. But if you consider that you need an autorickshaw to ferry you across town then one can call it a big town. Another thing, it’s got a CCD outlet, even if it is five kilometers out of town. A CCD outlet is something not many small towns in the country can boast of. As if having a CCD wasn’t enough for me, recently, another new joint opened on the opposite side of the town, this too five kilometers out of town and like CCD, on the highway. ‘7’ is the name of the place which is swank, neat and very hip considering its located in nowhere land. I’ve been there once and found it extremely good, notwithstanding the fact a masala dosa is forty bucks for which money I can get four in town.
No place that has three bus stands can be called small. Most towns I passed through had two. Suryapet has three, which makes it a big town. One is in the middle of the town, the Old Bus stand, which is not exactly a bus stand but a smallish ground where the buses enter. This is the place where most of the action is, with villagers swarming all over the place because this is the bus stand from where the buses to the surrounding villages start from. The road to the bus stand and around it abounds with the kind of small shops that sell things the villagers need to buy in a hurry. Then on the main road is another bus stand, the New Bus stand or Nalgonda bus stand where the buses to other places in the district stop. Finally, there’s the Hi-Tech bus stand, called so because the ‘Hi-Tech’ Express/Luxury/Volvo buses on their way to and from the capital stop. It is a long way off from the middle of the town from where the auto guys charge ten bucks to take you.
Anyway, that’s just to show how big (or small) Suryapet is. It even has an engineering college so that makes it not a very small town. However, it isn’t a town one can stay for too long in without getting portions of one’s brain permanently unhinged. Last week I completed six months of stay at Suryapet. Another six months and I could perhaps look forward to writing a book titled ‘A Year in Suryapet.’ It isn’t likely though because our office is going to shift to another town, the district headquarters of Nalgonda in another couple of months. In any event, what with I’ve experienced in Suryapet so far it is unlikely that I will write ‘A Year in Suryapet’, so rest easy.
But one experience that I found unforgettable is that of having one’s office bang next door to the local government hospital. It is quite distressing to be in such quite proximity to a hospital. On days when I don’t travel in villages I sit in my room in the office, just a few meters from the hospital that I can see through the window. Whenever I hear the sound of an ambulance siren coming closer to the hospital, I become anxious. A couple of minutes afterwards, depending on what the ambulance brought in, I hear loud wails of the women folk. It means that someone has died. The louder the wails the more tragic the death or the patient was a youngster. The next morning I read in the papers about it and feel sad for no reason. So that’s one thing in Suryapet I can never forget.
No place that has three bus stands can be called small. Most towns I passed through had two. Suryapet has three, which makes it a big town. One is in the middle of the town, the Old Bus stand, which is not exactly a bus stand but a smallish ground where the buses enter. This is the place where most of the action is, with villagers swarming all over the place because this is the bus stand from where the buses to the surrounding villages start from. The road to the bus stand and around it abounds with the kind of small shops that sell things the villagers need to buy in a hurry. Then on the main road is another bus stand, the New Bus stand or Nalgonda bus stand where the buses to other places in the district stop. Finally, there’s the Hi-Tech bus stand, called so because the ‘Hi-Tech’ Express/Luxury/Volvo buses on their way to and from the capital stop. It is a long way off from the middle of the town from where the auto guys charge ten bucks to take you.
Anyway, that’s just to show how big (or small) Suryapet is. It even has an engineering college so that makes it not a very small town. However, it isn’t a town one can stay for too long in without getting portions of one’s brain permanently unhinged. Last week I completed six months of stay at Suryapet. Another six months and I could perhaps look forward to writing a book titled ‘A Year in Suryapet.’ It isn’t likely though because our office is going to shift to another town, the district headquarters of Nalgonda in another couple of months. In any event, what with I’ve experienced in Suryapet so far it is unlikely that I will write ‘A Year in Suryapet’, so rest easy.
But one experience that I found unforgettable is that of having one’s office bang next door to the local government hospital. It is quite distressing to be in such quite proximity to a hospital. On days when I don’t travel in villages I sit in my room in the office, just a few meters from the hospital that I can see through the window. Whenever I hear the sound of an ambulance siren coming closer to the hospital, I become anxious. A couple of minutes afterwards, depending on what the ambulance brought in, I hear loud wails of the women folk. It means that someone has died. The louder the wails the more tragic the death or the patient was a youngster. The next morning I read in the papers about it and feel sad for no reason. So that’s one thing in Suryapet I can never forget.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Tea at Anand's
Until recently I haven’t had a cup of tea that cost me more than six rupees anywhere. I do not think a good cup of tea (Irani or otherwise) costs anything more than that much anywhere unless of course if it were at any of the fancy star hotels where a cup of tea would set you back by as much as a month’s expenses on petrol, or in my case, books. Not even in Hyderabad did I have to pay as much for a cup of tea as I did in the small town where I work. But honestly, the tea I had there one day was worth every paisa.
Since I was posted in this small town I had been nosing around, as is my habit, for a place where I could find a decent cup of tea to have regularly. Sometime last week a colleague took me to a place that’s now become a regular pilgrimage centre for me. I had seen it once, tucked away in a by lane, during my rambling evening walks but did not pay much attention to it. However, I was glad my colleague took me to the small hotel in the lane. The joint is so small there is space for only four tables but offers more than a dozen different kinds of tea including green tea. Green tea! No place in Hyderabad that I frequent is green tea available on the menu.
Anyway, that day I had my first cup of tea in Anand Café. We ordered masala tea and sat waiting for about ten minutes. It was that time of the day when I am not able to think clearly until there’s some tea in the bloodstream. So I waited rather impatiently watching someone grind something with a pestle and mortar and put it in the saucepan. It was worth the wait for the masala tea whipped up by the person was simply out of the world. There was ginger in it, cardamom, a hint of almonds and god knows what else but it instantly perked me up. The only downer was the cost- ten rupees a cup.
Anand Café is run by a father-son duo. They both have the sort of expression that people who know what they are doing have while making the tea. The next day I discovered that they also make two types of samosas which they make in small numbers for which people wait eagerly. The place is crowded at all times. Though I have to trek for almost thirty minutes to get there from home it doesn’t seem very far away once the ginger/masala tea begins to flow down the gullet. I’m glad that I get such good tea though I cannot get Irani chai in this small town.
Since I was posted in this small town I had been nosing around, as is my habit, for a place where I could find a decent cup of tea to have regularly. Sometime last week a colleague took me to a place that’s now become a regular pilgrimage centre for me. I had seen it once, tucked away in a by lane, during my rambling evening walks but did not pay much attention to it. However, I was glad my colleague took me to the small hotel in the lane. The joint is so small there is space for only four tables but offers more than a dozen different kinds of tea including green tea. Green tea! No place in Hyderabad that I frequent is green tea available on the menu.
Anyway, that day I had my first cup of tea in Anand Café. We ordered masala tea and sat waiting for about ten minutes. It was that time of the day when I am not able to think clearly until there’s some tea in the bloodstream. So I waited rather impatiently watching someone grind something with a pestle and mortar and put it in the saucepan. It was worth the wait for the masala tea whipped up by the person was simply out of the world. There was ginger in it, cardamom, a hint of almonds and god knows what else but it instantly perked me up. The only downer was the cost- ten rupees a cup.
Anand Café is run by a father-son duo. They both have the sort of expression that people who know what they are doing have while making the tea. The next day I discovered that they also make two types of samosas which they make in small numbers for which people wait eagerly. The place is crowded at all times. Though I have to trek for almost thirty minutes to get there from home it doesn’t seem very far away once the ginger/masala tea begins to flow down the gullet. I’m glad that I get such good tea though I cannot get Irani chai in this small town.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Small Town Snapshots- 2
One good thing about Vijayawada (apart from the fact that it is 275 kms away from Hyderabad) is that there is no dearth of buses to take you to that place. At any given time there will be no less than half a dozen buses with ‘Vijayawada’ boards waiting to leave at the MGBS bus terminal. The place where I work happens to be on the highway to Vijayawada so any bus that goes to Vijayawada will take me there. Till recently the bus service was the only one positive thing about my work place. Last week another unusual discovery took the list to two items. It is a small thing but nevertheless cheered me no end.
If one considers the great chunks of time I get to read and write, and the solitude to do it in, one might think I am fortunate to work in a place far away from home. But nothing can compensate for the absence of your loved ones around you. It is a little more than three months that I have been posted to this small town and my resentment levels have reached intolerable levels. There are several reasons for this state. I live in a two roomed house that has a shutter for a door, I sleep on the floor, I eat my breakfast, lunch and dinner in a hotel for six days a week, plus there is no running water most of the time but all the dust one can have, and the power goes off too often without warning… The list is too long and it is futile to recount it here since I have no choice but to stay on for another two years at least. But last week I stumbled upon something that might bring some cheer to my otherwise drab existence in this small town.
I was on my way to a village along with my assistant on his bike. We were on the highway and a familiar sign suddenly caught my eye. It was a CCD outlet in a petrol filling station five kilometers from my town! Though I am a diehard Irani chai fan, the sight of the red and white CCD sign made me irrationally glad. I decided to check it out on the way back. So I hurried through the farmers meeting at the village. A couple of hours later we stopped at the CCD. It was bigger than any CCD I had been to in Hyderabad. It had nice, soft seats spread out all over. There were even chairs and tables under umbrellas outside. We ordered coffee and waited. Capuccino never tasted so good. I made plans to spend at least a couple of hours in the CCD once a week. I would borrow a bike and bring along a book and my notebook. It seemed the perfect setting to spend a few quiet hours reading and writing. I plan to begin this routine as soon as possible.
Though unrelated to my place of work, another bit of news brought me cheer. I don’t know why other newspapers did not report it but yesterday (Sunday) I read in The New Indian Express that the Hyderabad Book Fair would begin from December 24. Unlike in the past when the Fair would last ten days, this year it is going to be for only four (yes, four) days until December 27. Though I am not glad about the short duration I am glad about the dates because three of them are holidays for me. But I have to wait a whole month for the feast.
If one considers the great chunks of time I get to read and write, and the solitude to do it in, one might think I am fortunate to work in a place far away from home. But nothing can compensate for the absence of your loved ones around you. It is a little more than three months that I have been posted to this small town and my resentment levels have reached intolerable levels. There are several reasons for this state. I live in a two roomed house that has a shutter for a door, I sleep on the floor, I eat my breakfast, lunch and dinner in a hotel for six days a week, plus there is no running water most of the time but all the dust one can have, and the power goes off too often without warning… The list is too long and it is futile to recount it here since I have no choice but to stay on for another two years at least. But last week I stumbled upon something that might bring some cheer to my otherwise drab existence in this small town.
I was on my way to a village along with my assistant on his bike. We were on the highway and a familiar sign suddenly caught my eye. It was a CCD outlet in a petrol filling station five kilometers from my town! Though I am a diehard Irani chai fan, the sight of the red and white CCD sign made me irrationally glad. I decided to check it out on the way back. So I hurried through the farmers meeting at the village. A couple of hours later we stopped at the CCD. It was bigger than any CCD I had been to in Hyderabad. It had nice, soft seats spread out all over. There were even chairs and tables under umbrellas outside. We ordered coffee and waited. Capuccino never tasted so good. I made plans to spend at least a couple of hours in the CCD once a week. I would borrow a bike and bring along a book and my notebook. It seemed the perfect setting to spend a few quiet hours reading and writing. I plan to begin this routine as soon as possible.
Though unrelated to my place of work, another bit of news brought me cheer. I don’t know why other newspapers did not report it but yesterday (Sunday) I read in The New Indian Express that the Hyderabad Book Fair would begin from December 24. Unlike in the past when the Fair would last ten days, this year it is going to be for only four (yes, four) days until December 27. Though I am not glad about the short duration I am glad about the dates because three of them are holidays for me. But I have to wait a whole month for the feast.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Small Town Snapshots
Since the past couple of days I haven’t been breathing the Hyderabadi air. Not that I didn’t want to (I’m not going to die if I don’t) but because I have finally taken up residence in my new place of posting. At last I am in the field though this isn’t exactly the kind of field posting I had expected but nevertheless I am happy I am not working in a lousy office. My new place of posting, like I had already mentioned in earlier posts, is in a small town on a busy national highway. It isn’t very small but I like it though it doesn’t have any Irani restaurants which is one thing I am missing like anything. I can hardly believe I am able to survive without my daily cup of Irani tea. I think I have to get used to the fact that I have to spend most of the week without Irani tea in this small town.
It maybe a small town but it had a nice government guest house, one of those ancient structures built in the times of the Nizams or the British rule. It became my temporary home for a couple of days. I was lucky I got a room there thanks to someone who turned out to be a friend’s friend. In fact I am amazed how helpful people living in small towns really are. I am humbled by the eagerness of these small towners to help someone who they have barely met. After I met him and expressed my accommodation problems, he took out his bike and said he’d arrange it in a jiffy but not before taking me for lunch. Afterwards he took me to the guest house where there was an attendant who said that it wouldn’t be a problem providing me a room. He said I could come over in the evening. It really didn’t turn out to be a problem finding a room in the Guest House. In fact I spent three wonderful days in a spacious airconditioned room in the small guest house. The first day in the guest house did have its moments of drama.
When I reached the guest house in the evening I noticed that it was swarming with cops of all sizes and shapes. There were cops in uniform carrying rifles, there were cops in safari suits with sten guns slung across their shoulders and there were police officers in uniforms with pistols stuck in their belts going around in that manner that I have come to know marks the presence of one of their big bosses. Then there were several vehicles parked in the large compound. I wondered what it was, but K, the bearded attendant confirmed my guess when he told me a top cop was visiting. I changed into tees and pajamas and settled down with a book after a nice cup of tea. After sometime K appeared in my room and asked me that one of the cops, a circle inspector, wanted to know if I would mind if the top cop came to my room and had a smoke. I wondered why he wanted to smoke in my room when he had one of his own. K told me he had come with family. I agreed and sat waiting hoping he wouldn’t expect me to get up and salute him.
But the cop didn’t turn up though another officer came in and briefly checked out the room I was staying. After sometime all of them left and later, much later, it stuck me that the cops had made that request because they wanted to check me out. It is a Naxalite infested area and I guess they wanted to make sure I wasn’t one of those out to bomb their boss to high heaven. These cops like to take all precautions and do not trust anyone who isn’t a cop. I know because I worked with cops long enough to understand a little about how they think.
The guest house attendant, K, turned out to be the sort of helpful guy one cannot help loving. He turned up just when I needed his help. He brought me my dinner, hot water in the morning for my bath, my morning cup of tea and a newspaper to read along with it, my breakfast and everything I needed. In short I didn’t have to move an inch to get anything. When I checked out three days later I gave him a big tip that shocked him. He was so modest he said the tip was too much but accepted it anyway. I was in a generous mood because he had made me feel at home in the guest house.
It maybe a small town but it had a nice government guest house, one of those ancient structures built in the times of the Nizams or the British rule. It became my temporary home for a couple of days. I was lucky I got a room there thanks to someone who turned out to be a friend’s friend. In fact I am amazed how helpful people living in small towns really are. I am humbled by the eagerness of these small towners to help someone who they have barely met. After I met him and expressed my accommodation problems, he took out his bike and said he’d arrange it in a jiffy but not before taking me for lunch. Afterwards he took me to the guest house where there was an attendant who said that it wouldn’t be a problem providing me a room. He said I could come over in the evening. It really didn’t turn out to be a problem finding a room in the Guest House. In fact I spent three wonderful days in a spacious airconditioned room in the small guest house. The first day in the guest house did have its moments of drama.
When I reached the guest house in the evening I noticed that it was swarming with cops of all sizes and shapes. There were cops in uniform carrying rifles, there were cops in safari suits with sten guns slung across their shoulders and there were police officers in uniforms with pistols stuck in their belts going around in that manner that I have come to know marks the presence of one of their big bosses. Then there were several vehicles parked in the large compound. I wondered what it was, but K, the bearded attendant confirmed my guess when he told me a top cop was visiting. I changed into tees and pajamas and settled down with a book after a nice cup of tea. After sometime K appeared in my room and asked me that one of the cops, a circle inspector, wanted to know if I would mind if the top cop came to my room and had a smoke. I wondered why he wanted to smoke in my room when he had one of his own. K told me he had come with family. I agreed and sat waiting hoping he wouldn’t expect me to get up and salute him.
But the cop didn’t turn up though another officer came in and briefly checked out the room I was staying. After sometime all of them left and later, much later, it stuck me that the cops had made that request because they wanted to check me out. It is a Naxalite infested area and I guess they wanted to make sure I wasn’t one of those out to bomb their boss to high heaven. These cops like to take all precautions and do not trust anyone who isn’t a cop. I know because I worked with cops long enough to understand a little about how they think.
The guest house attendant, K, turned out to be the sort of helpful guy one cannot help loving. He turned up just when I needed his help. He brought me my dinner, hot water in the morning for my bath, my morning cup of tea and a newspaper to read along with it, my breakfast and everything I needed. In short I didn’t have to move an inch to get anything. When I checked out three days later I gave him a big tip that shocked him. He was so modest he said the tip was too much but accepted it anyway. I was in a generous mood because he had made me feel at home in the guest house.
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