You can keep Puri

Some places are just not right for some people. And for me Puri is one of those. Sure millions of local tourists love the place but not so popular with the foreign visitor. Even here in the travellers quarter, there are few western faces. Those who are around are tend to keep themselves to themselves and don't engage in much conversation.

Add to that my mishaps like standing right in some buried shit on the beach, the tumble into the sea when I tried to clean it off, and the sequential almost disastrous dipping of my phone in the sea, then you can see why I won't hold no fond memories of the place.

The final crunch came when I was nibbling some breakfast muesli. I felt a wobble and lo behold one of my crowns had come loose. All that and it wasn't even 9am yet.

I'll be glad to leave later today. My train is at 5.30pm. Wouldn't be so bad except Puri hotels operate on an 8am checkout principal. The only place I've ever come across this. So it's bags stored and time killing in the big town that I am frankly desperate to see the back off.

The one saving grace has been my short trip to Raghunandan village. A picturesque hamlet 16 kilometres out of town and home to dozens of traditional artists. Some fine pieces were shown to me and I  bought a couple of small items. It being all I can practically carry. Every second home housed an artists family and each one tried to yank me in to display their wares.