In South America when other tourists would say, "Everyone is so nice aren't they?", I would reply, "mm yeah so nice, now can I sit with you at dinner?" I was lying. No one wants to be friends with a whinger. (Ahem, sorry to all my friends btw about Fran 2011/12.) But anyway, the locals were emphatically not nice in South America. 

Here people are generally all really lovely. Most people smile, wave, say hi to us. This man at the hotel offered to drive us up to our next destination. We preferred a six hour train journey sans awkward conversation, but we did let him book our next hotel for us and order our taxi. 

I like all the courtesy here. Even the station snack trolley has a complaint book advertised. Just incase. People nervously say please thank you and sorry as much as Bob and I do when we're tripping over each other trying to buy picnic ingredients, impeded by our inherent guilt from choosing our preferred hummus. Its reassuring. 

Do you know who aren't so nice? The fat trio of tourists staying at our beach homestay with us. We call them the F-rio. The boy sometimes talks back but the girls don't even look up when we try to chat. We asked them if they wanted to come to a THEYYAM festival with us last night, which is a very special rare spirit procession in a temple. They declined, clearly preferring to stay and argue over Monopoly than "experience India". Our kind homestay man dropped us there, settled us down, then picked us up later so we could get back safely.

To punish them the next day I talked about it to them unbidden for an uncomfortable half an hour straight. I made it sound well good when in reality the second large dinner the locals had wanted us to have there had been painful (I'd rather be sick than be so rude as refuse hospitality) and Ro and I had ignored the man dancing on fire in lieu of telling each other Ryan Gosling film synopses.