January 28 Vengangali to Tanjore (100k).
Road conditions:  bad to smooth sealed. Total elapsed time: 5 hours. Fuel: Dosas, bananas and gatorade water mix.  Weather:  Overcast to sunny hot.

I awoke in a state of panic when I pried my eye opens and finally could look in the mirror.  My upper and lower lids were swollen together like siamese twins and a red rash had taken over my thighs.  An obvious allergic reaction to one of the many varietals of bites tattooing my body or, perhaps, to the expired Malarone.  Usually, I would have welcomed a reason for a 'day off' but, the last thing I wanted to do was stay in this dingy town.

One difficulty facing a rider in India is finding protein and an early breakfast.  I set my alarm to beat the Floor Boy (that's really what they call themselves) up before he banged on my door for chai or coffee.  Unbeknowst to my trained eye, this turned out to be a 'high end' hotel where you could actually press a buzzer to summon the Floor Boy.  A great concept but for the fact that any buzzer pressed in any room could be heard by the entire hotel starting at about 5:00 a.m..  Where were all those wonderful Indian engineers?   

After mass, I ambled with the rest of the locals to Restaurant Afta for some breakfast and, more importantly, their supply of waxy napkins.  It was highly unusual to find a place open before 8:00 but, being Sunday, they offered a special post-mass breakie starting at 7:00.  My eyes were settling in on the omlette and toast when a metal cafeteria-like tray was thrown in front of me with a couple of fresh off the skillet rice pancakes.  I hadn't seen these before and waited patiently for the maple syrup to arrive.  A few minutes later after I'd nibbled around the corners of each cake with my right hand, a series of sauces and dahl were plopped down.  It was all really tasty but reminded me a bit too much like dinner. 

There is no glorifying the first 15 kays out of town.  It was utter hell.  Not wanting to backtrack yesterday's ride, I cut off on a deceivingly tempting single lane country road that, around a corner, fed into the main arterial road used by every bloody pilgrim bus.  But that's not the worst part.  It was a severely potted red dirt road with easterly side winds sufficiently strong to blow everything kicked up from the buses into my already impaired vision.  I guess there's a reason no other local cyclists were using this road.

Approaching Naggapatnum, the road smoothed out to the usual high quality sealed stuff.  It was a bit confusing at the junction because somewhere in the last two days there was a noticeable absence of English language street signs.  An eager man with no teeth pointed me in the right direction as I cinched down my helmet for the next 95 kays.  From Naggapatnum all the way to Tanjore it was an ever so slight but perceivable up river slog.  I was kept sufficiently entertained (and vice versa) by three older independent cyclists from Canada having a third world cycling resume putting mine to shame.  Swapping stories as cyclists of our breed do, we discovered all that 'small world' stuff from Laos to Kathmandu.   Enjoying the conversation, I hung with the group right up until turn-off for the designated meeting spot with Marcus.  There was no chance we'd be staying at the same hotel and I clearly burst their bubble when I told them I was living off of $5 - 10 bucks a day.

I was excited that Marcus was already in Tanjore and had done all the 'hotel shopping' for me.  It can sometimes be the toughest part of any day.  He left me a note at the Shree Diva hotel telling me to go to the Ramasheka Lodge.  An entirely forgettable pit hole in the thick of the central bus station but for the $1.50 price tag and the giant complimentary coakroaches.  We had reached a new low. 

Another amazing curry dinner, internet and, after a good deal of leg work, we finally found the toilet paper!

Love and peace to all!  Thanks for all your comments.

PS.  Marcus reported an excellent ride from Chidabaram all the way to Tanjore.  Also, in no way is he responsible for the crummy hotel in Tanjore, everything else was full.