A blonde. A backpack. Abroad.

The flash of cameras disorients me as hordes of women scramble to get a good shot. They’re screaming and laughing hysterically, and one would be forgiven for assuming the Indian version of One Direction has just arrived, but alas, it’s just me, pulling my bikini bottoms from the depths of my buttocks as I emerge from the highest waterslide at Water Kingdom – India’s premiere water park.

I had arrived in Bombay the night before, thrilled to be in a “cosmopolitan” city where women could roam freely in tight fitting clothes and wine was readily available.

Things had started out well. After a three hour delay, I arrived at 11pm on Christmas Eve at my absolutely beautiful, and disgustingly expensive, hotel on Marine Parade (I decided to treat myself for Christmas, spending 15 times the amount I had per night so far *innocent “oopsy” face*).

I was determined to keep…

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