A journey to 'Scotland' in India

For most of the journey I slept. It was either drift away or chuck up, so I drifted.... into bouts of fitful sleep where I constantly dreamt of falling off the edge of the world.
The closer we got to destination Coorg, the more relieved I felt. Motion-sickness had pretty much evaded me following a year of bus journeys not less than an hour long, cramped amidst kind (but mostly non-deodorant wearing) villagers. But for some reason it reared its ugly head on this trip.
Winding roads and twisted trees, lack of oxygen (or so I felt) and the smell of air-conditioning didn't make the situation any better, so I stuck my head to the seat and forced myself to sleep.
I nearly screamed and threw up simultaneously when told the coffee estate was another 40kms further than we'd thought. Prepared to kill, my hands clutched the sides of the seat and the car wound its way up the hill until we were lost in the clouds.
...
Three kilometres up a stone track in a jeep devoid of suspension, I looked at one pair of eyes obviously sick of the journey and another suspiciously silent and hidden behind sunglasses. The third pair alternated between the rough road and the cigarette butt. Fuming and procrastinating, I was probably vocalising what everyone else felt but politely chose not to say - screw this journey and screw the roads in slightly more explicit terms.
The cottages were bare, shorn of luxuries in the most literal sense of the word. I could already imagine rats and snakes crawling through the chinks in the wood. But I wasn't worried about that. Thanks to Mr Sinus, someone would be up all night looking like she was being asphyxiated. It obviously wasn't the brightest idea to sleep in a log structure of sorts with wildlife creeping in and you creeping out every time you felt like a leak. Heaven only knew where the loos were.
...
I was happier on the journey going back than I was getting to Coorg. Not because I hated the place, but because I enjoyed it. We slept in a four-bed room with attached bath (hot water and all), spent the night in the balcony feasting on Coorgi-style pork, chicken, pakoras and KF. The trek was one I enjoyed after ages, despite the invasion of leeches, some of which - don't ask how - got up my shorts and stuck to my thigh. Blech.
We saw our first white elephant in the far distance...
It rained and poured, I got drenched and couldn't breathe, my struggling respiratory system echoing across the room and ensuring it was a topic of conversation the next day. Huh
Our home for the weekend was nestled in a valley full of coffee plants and the clouds could be seen suspended mid-way between heaven and earth.
We ate "home-cooked" meals, drank lots of strong coffee, played 'guess the nationality of the new guest' and forgot we lived and toiled in a dusty city a hundred miles away...
I've never been to Scotland, so I'm not sure why it's called the Scotland of India, but Coorg estates are some of the nicest places to spend a holiday. Just don't drive there. Bring your chopper.