We're checking out today to head south for Calicut in Kerala. Yesteray we agreed with reception that we could keep the room until 4.30pm for an extra charge. Or at least we though we had. At 11.30 this morning we're told we have to check out by midday, and despite remonstrating with the manager ("Oh no sir, that cannot be correct") we have to pack our things and put our bags in the storage room. There's nothing for it but to sit by the pool and read! However we do find time for a last game of snooker, which Sarah again wins despite Clive potting twice as many balls, largely due to the high number of fouls which he incurs.

At 4.30 we're ready to go. So, fortunately, is our driver in his Ambassador car. We know where the station is because we've previously done a recce (Clive being a train spotter and all that). However our driver takes an unexpected route through the south of the city. Very soon we're in a traffic jam which appears due to roadworks, or "a programme" as our driver calls it. There are buses, cars, auto-rickshaws and bikes all trying to reverse and do three-point turns in the narrow road. It's chaos, and we're in danger of getting stuck in a gridlock. Our driver seems reluctant to try a different route, even though we're confident we know one, but he eventually mutters something about "long way round" and we fight our way out of the jam. It's not long before we arrive at the railway station. We unload our bags and I give our driver the previously-agreed fare of Rs250. "No no, long way round" says our driver, clearly indicating that since he had to take a detour we should be paying extra. We say something like "You have got to be joking, sunshine" whereupon we bid him farewell and lug our bags onto the station platform.

Mangalore is a quiet station, as Indian terminal stations go, but (according to Clive) there's lots to interest the enthusiast. Consequently Clive's out taking photographs. As soon as locals see a camera, they all want their picture taken. Eventually Clive says "Out of film", despite it being a digital camera, and this seems to satisfy them.

The journey to Calicut is about five and a half hours and as usual it's running about 30 minutes late. We catch an auto from the station to the Beach Hotel, which according to the Lonely Planet guide used to be The Malabar Club and only has ten rooms. By the time we're there it's 11.30 and we're pretty tired. However, despite us having phoned ahead to say we'll be arriving late evening, the staff seem unprepared and we have to wait for ages to go through the registration formalities. A small procession forms to take us the short distance to our room - there's someone leading the way to open the door and turn the lights on, one boy carrying Clive's bag, two more boys lugging mine, the manager and us. They laugh and joke about how heavy the bags are. We tell them that a single station porter can easily carry both bags. When we get into our room the AC doesn't work, and there's no toilet paper or towels. By the time we've sorted all this out it's half past midnight. Oh well, this is India!