YWCA Guest House
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TravelPod Member ReviewsYWCA Guest House Chennai (Madras)
I love this place. My review is in my blog at the link below.
This review is the subjective opinion of a TravelPod member and not of TravelPod.com.
TripAdvisor Reviews YWCA Guest House Chennai (Madras)
Travel Blogs from Chennai (Madras)
... The men took a liking to Annabelle, which was probably something to do with the fact she was wearing shorts and they didn't often get a look at women’s legs in public. Our hotel was close to the Egmore train station and we followed its lines towards town and over the river.
As we headed along one of the main streets our bags were grabbed at by young children and we had to put our hands in our pockets to make sure that ...
... which I used to get a henna tattoo! (Dara, it is fake this time so don't have another panic attack). When I got back, I had dinner on the ship with a couple of my friends and decided not to get off the ship again that night because I was leaving for the airport at 330 AM. We arrived in Delhi mid morning. The weather in Northern India was so much nicer than in Chennai: much less humid and about ten to fifteen degrees cooler. That day we went to a Hindu temple, ...
... too difficult because we’re only allowed to wear pants and shirts that cover our shoulders and chest. I don’t have a lot of clothing like that, so luckily I made it on time, but you can only imagine the whirlwind that I was in rushing to pack things and to make sure I had all my documentation (passport, customs form, birth certificate, etc.), I was going insane. We got to the airport, and you think that the USA is bad security-wise. We weren’t allowed to have ...
... how to maintain an extremely clean appearance, which is extremely difficult! I am officially Mr. Spencer at school, and I have to sign in on the staff logbook and everything! However the children in the homes had a tough time adapting, as I had been their brother all week, playing with them and they all call me 'full' so I am desperately trying to get them to call me by my teacher name, as that is what I have been told how they must address me.