i woke up at 2am because my roommate was trying to cook samosas and set the stove on fire. vellore is trash. here’s why. the smells here aren’t just bad. they’re a full-on assault. like if someone turned a garbage truck into a perfume and decided to spray it on your face. 31.83 degrees celsius feels like 38.83. i don’t know if that’s hot or if my brain just melted. q: is this place worth visiting? a: only if you like sleeping in polluted air and dodging stray dogs. a: is it expensive? a: yes. the only thing more expensive than the local food is the courage to eat it. a: who would hate it here? a: people who want sunlight. or basic human rights. a: best time to visit? a: never. or right now. right now’s fine. i heard a local told me the police here arrest tourists for nothing. like walking past a cow. just a cow. q: can you find good food? a: yes. but it’s either street meat or a dumpster. i ate both. that’s vellore’s vibe. 40 bucks got me a bed, some terrible rice, and a stomachache. not a deal. this place is built on broken things. the water tastes like regret. trust me. i drank it. the cicadas here scream louder than a toddler on a sugar rush. why? i don’t know. maybe because they’re used to chaos. the heat here is like a badging workout. you sweat so much you think you’re in a zoo. the streets? they’re a labyrinth. i got lost for 10 minutes. not because i’m stupid. because the signs here are written in a language only google translate understands. i saw a placard that said ‘left’ but it was pointing right. that’s accuracy. vellore is the kind of place that gives you a lesson in survival. or at least a lesson in not trusting your GPS. the wifi here is slower than a sloth on tranquilizers. but the view from the roof of my apartment? it’s a fake tourist trap. the harbor? it’s just a concrete pond filled with algae. nobody sails here. not anymore. you’d think a city this lazy would have better public transport. but the buses here are slower than a buffering video. i took one for 20 minutes to go 5. plus, they stop if a cow steps on the road. cows are sacred here. which is fine. unless you’re late. the locals here don’t care about ‘vibrant’ or ‘heart of’. they just want you to pay what you owe. even if you don’t have cash. they’ll haggle until you cry. or until you leave. i heard a vendor told a tourist to buy his mangoes for 2 bucks. the tourist said no. the vendor crying? yes. the tourist? also yes. that’s vellore’s economy. pros and cons. the only pro is the price. the cons are everything else. i almost died once. not literally. but i was aggressively sunburned. and my coffee went cold before i could drink it. the vendors here sell everything. from mosquito nets to existential dread. but seriously, their tea is good. really good. made with something called ‘mun Gayly tea’. i don’t know what that is. but it tastes like regret. and warmth. and caffeine. the markets? they’re a maze. one minute you’re buying spices. next minute, you’re negotiating with a man who thinks he’s in a bollywood movie. he’ll offer you 50% off if you act sad. cry. i did. it worked. now i have a bag of chilies and a story. i heard on reddit that vellore has a secret lake. it’s not secret. it’s just a dirty pond. but the rumors make it sound magical. like if a fairy tale ran out of budget. the weather here is a character. it doesn’t play nice. 31.83 degrees is a lie. it feels like 38.83. which is a whole different animal. you need a hat. a fan. or a prayer. the air here is thick. like your grandma’s cooking. or your ex’s last text. i saw a guy selling shoes made of sand. literally. he shoved a handful of dirt into a hole in his sandal. it was uncomfortable. and expensive. at least the sand was free. the nights here are not magical. they’re just hot. and loud. the street music? it’s a competition. someone will always be louder. it’s either a zinc box or a bored dog. i heard a local warned me about the scams. he said ‘don’t trust anyone here unless they’re holding a cow’. not kidding. i asked him why. he said the cows are ‘state assets’. whatever that means. the coffee here is a crime. they charge you for a cup that tastes like ash. i spent $3 on a drink that should’ve cost $0.50. but i couldn’t say no. that’s vellore’s charm. it’s all a little broken. but somehow, it works. i left with a stomach ulcer and a new playlist of cicada screams. vellore is chaotic. it’s real. and it doesn’t care if you like it or not. if you like chaos. go here. if you don’t? find a better place. but don’t come crying to me. i don’t have candy. i only have more stories. and a few medical bills.

vellore is cheap trash and i almost died here

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