Kerala: aka 'Land of Coconuts'... and horrible staring

While planning my trip to India, Cochin in the state of Kerala, was to be one of the highlights of my southern loop. I couldn't wait to arrive in the city made up of islands on the shores of the Lakshadweep Sea. I googled the images of Cochin and fell in love with the lazy sunsets, fishing nets, ritual theatre shots, and most importantly, the backwaters. Arriving in Cochin, however, everything changed. Cochin wound up being a love-hate point of my trip so far and a big test of my backpacker endurance.

Brian, Laurie, and I arrived in the evening to a city of closed shops and restaurants with nowhere to be found to eat or drink anything. Poor Laurie had trouble using her credit card and was down to her last 50 rupees or so and each new street we turned onto looked more desolate, dark, and forbidding than the last. Eventually, her visa obliged her with funds, and we did find a restaurant that was open (turns out that because of Eid, a lot of the usual haunts were shut early).

So passed our first night in Kerala. The next morning, though, things brightened and we embarked on a full day backwaters experience that took us onto a houseboat in the morning-- sailing around the rivers and island villages south of Cochin-- and then onto smaller canoe-like boats in the afternoon-- penetrating the tiny canals inaccessible to the larger houseboats. The experience was magical. for the first time since leaving the UK, there was silence. The sound of water gently lapping against the hull of the boat and the occassional kingfisher in the trees flapping off to another branch was all that interrupted the silence and that was a-ok with me! On the backwaters tour we met a group of people, some of whom were non-resident Indians from the US and a couple of whom live in Bangalore (or Bengalooru, Jon). This was fortuitous as it was nice to talk to someone from the home continent and also really great for asking all those nagging questions about Indian culture tht had crept up along the way. Example: when asking a yes-or-no question to an Indian here, the usual response isn't a shake or a nod of the head, but more of a rocking motion where the head is kept facing straight but the head tilts alternatingly from side to side. We had no idea what that meant, "Is this the bus for Cochin?" *tilt, tilt*; "Is this dish spicy?" *tilt, tilt*; "Do you have a single room available?" *TILT, frickin, TILT*. Anyway... our lovely new indian friends explained that it means ok or yes.

That evening we joined joined force with our new friends to head onto the island of Fort Cochin (the more expensive and touristy part of Cochin, versus the mainland, Ernakulam, where we were staying and where prices are low and tourists are more scarce). We took the RS5 ferry just as the sun was setting and made our way to the chinese fishing nets to get some fresh fish. Sree, one of the group, procured some great fish from the mongers at the proper market price (invaluable, since we probably would have been ripped off otherwise) and we took it to a little fry shack where they cook it for you. SO GOOD! I'm not even sure what kind of fish it was, but it was white and then fried in garlic and some sort of masala spices and served with lemon. As it was, this was just the entree part of our meal. Our group headed back to Ernakulam and checked out the popular restaurant 'Fry's' for a proper Keralan culinary exerience. Our hosts ordered up an array of Keralan dishes for us to try (the things the NRI's missed most after moving to the states) and we feasted on someting called appam-- a flat, moist, rice pancakey thing that you dip into various dishes, like chana masala or curries or whatever. We also tried another dish (don't remember the name) that involved a coconutty rice roll thingy that you eat as rice with the same curry or masala dishes as the appam. The appam was FABULOUS, the roll thingy, not so much-- but... nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The next day, Brian and Laurie departed for some time in Goa and I stuck around Cochin to check out Fort Cocin a bit more. I wound up making friends with the new guests that took on Brian and Laurie's room, a Scottish couple, Elizabeth and Kevin. We made plans to meet up in the evening for a ritual theatre performance of the traditional art form of Kathakali, and I made my way to Fort Cochin for the day.

To be honest, Fort Cochin proved to be a big let down for me. It was jam packed with the staring category of people-- actually, it was jam packed with the selling-stuff people too. I have never felt less like a traveller and more like a walking dollar bill. I literally had people following me, practically chasing me with wares and it was exhausting. The staring and photo-snapping was incessant too. I understand that I look different from the 1 billion people in India, but to follow me round and take photos, or to just stare unmercilessly, keeping me under 24/7 surveillance for every move i make, is just plain rude i my books. Some people will come up and ask for a photo, and I appreciate that they ask. But then, if I say no, they just keep on focussing the camera, and I've had to obstruct their view of me on more than one occasion (Am currently considering going burqa-style as an experiment in evading the photo snapping..... thoughts?). I even met a group of male students who wanted me to give them my dead father's ring "so we can remember you", even after I had said that it had belonged to my father who was deceased. Pfft!

Anyway, the staring, photos, and incessant selling put me in the foulest mood and really put me off of Cochin (especially after reading about how laid back it supposedly was). I showered away the rage and proceeded to meet Elizabeth and Kevin for the show. The show was fascinaing, if a little short and simple. We arrived in time to see the performer applying his bright makeup (the dancer takes on the likeness of a god and acts out stories from the great Hindu epics in an intricate full-body sign-language-- very cool concept!). Normally these performances last all night and are composed of many performers. Our show only featured one man depicting one story.. a bit disappointing, but worthwhile nonetheless.

So ended Cochin... at 2:30AM the following morning I woke up, headed out and caught a 4:30 train to Kanyakumari.... the southernmost tip of the subcontinent where the Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean, and Arabian Sea meet. Kanyakumari has proven to be the highlight of my trip so far, and by a huge margin.... but getting there involved another epic adventure and test of my endurance. More on that next time...

Thanks for reading, guys!!

Chilling, quite literally, in Ooty

After a remarkably gorgeous 5 hour bus ride around hairpin curves and rain-forest-esque vegetation, I made it to the hill station town of Ooty. The town is a popular Indian-tourist destination, not so many foreigners.

I checked myself into the dormitory of the local YWCA and immediately encountered 3 new friends, Bobbi, Naomi, and Laura, all from England, sitting in the ice-cold parlour. The YWCA was built back in the 20s or 30s and had a certain pre-war charm, the big open parlor, being one such feature.

When I got there, Bobbi, Naomi, and Laura were debating their next move to check out Ooty. In their Lonely Planet guide was listed a strange little attraction called a the Thread Garden. Described as a 'miracle' and the 'first ever in the world', it supposedly took 50 workers 12 years to construct it. We had no idea what a thread garden actually was, but clearly, with an intro like that, we had to check it out! So we packed our 4 bodies into one tight little auto-rickshaw and departed to learn the mysteries of the thread garden of Ooty. The best way to describe this place is a fake flower emporium. it was indoors and set around cutesy little garden paths and looked like a regular flower garden except everything-- from the petals to the leaves and stems- was constructed and finished with embroidery thread. The effect was adorable, but not quite the miracle we were expecting. If it weren't for the 80x zoom on my camera, i would not have been able to see any of the thread craftsmanship. For 10 rupees entry, it was still a fabulous bargain for such a bizarre attraction.

Next we partook of afternoon tea at the Mysore Maharaja's summer palace which is now a very posh guesthouse. the grounds were fabulous and we had to be carted around from the main building to the tea garden on a golf cart. there was an ornate ballroom and beautiful old black and white photos of palace times at the turn of the century. The brits and I enjoyed a round of tea (and hot chocolate for me!) and biscuits while in our backpacker grubby attire in the guesthouse's restaurant where the staff were better dressed and mannered than we could ever hope to be while travelling. It was a great little taste of posh living for an afternoon.

The next day I took a day tour of the surrounding area and was the love single person on a bus filled exclusively with couples-- or so i thought. I met an American guy and French girl, Brian and Laurie, who are travelling for 10 months around Asia and frequently masquerade as a married couple to avoid the incomprehension of local custom of the concept of travel buddies. We saw a waterfall, a forest reserve and a wildlife sanctuary on the tour and discovered that we were headed for the same next port of call so we decided to join forces to make our way into the state of Kerala to soak up the coastal fishing city of Cochin and the atmospheric backwaters immediately south.

To get from Ooty to Cochin, however, I would have to face death on the bus ride down out of the mountains. It took about 3 hours of terrifying hairpin turns and near collisions on the tiny mountain roads while trying to tune out a 200 decibel Bollywood film playing on the bus' TV. The conductor took a liking to me and sat me at the front of the bus to show his fondness-- Biggest mistake ever. At the front I had a head-on view of every single near-miss and new hairpin turn. With every acceleration and careening turn, I could picture the rickety bus rolling down the mountain and immediately wished I had taken out a life insurance policy. Near-death aside, the scenery was absolutely stunning- the stuff of travel brochures and national geographic specials, but things were so precarious i didn't want to extricate my camera. Luckily we made it to flat plains and smoother roads but then got held up in a town with a mob of people praying as it was Eid and every single Muslim man and boy was out at the town mosque. We arrived just as prayers were finishing and so everyone was flowing out of the grounds of the mosque and it basically looked like Wellington St on Canada Day after the fireworks- minus the drinking and debauchery. Helpless to drive further we had to sit in the sun for 30 minutes til the crowds dissipated and then finally moved on. Brian, Laurie, and I finally made it to Cochin after a full day's bus travel and thus began a couple of days in Kerala. More next time...

Mysore : "Do you like Pina Coladas? And getting caught in the rain?"

I started my Southern Indian Adventure in Mysore, a city with a glorious palace and market. People there-- and, I would learn, all over the place-- generally fell into two categories: the ones that stared at me constantly but never said a word, and the ones who chatted me up simply to con me into shopping at a store that would pay them comssion, or to take their rickshaw, bring them to Canada, etc.

It was tough going for the first days. Life was lonely and the only other westerners I saw appeared to be the swanky luxury travellers. I checked into a hotel recomended by ye olde Rough Guide and described as a backpacker's haunt.... alas, not a single backpacker. I was alone. Luckily, Mysore has a gorgeous and compact little city centre with a big clocktower, the Maharaja's palace, and the big market. I walked everywhere and took photos most of the time. I sampled a restaurant that served its meals on banana leaves and had my first proper indian chicken biryani-- heaven!

My first night in Mysore was spent sipping fresh juices-- pineapple being a staple-- and exploring the city under a gathering thunderstorm. The lightshow was superb. I stood for a while trying to wave away hawkers and rickshaw drivers looking for fares and just admired the brilliant flashes of intense national-geographic caliber lightning set against the clocktower and Maharaja's Palace while not a single drop of rain fell. Then suddenly, apocalypse. Torrents of rain tore through the city and every last sane Indian sought cover. Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to walk leisurely and un-hassled through the streets around the centre, getting soaked and protecting my camera from a watery death, but all the time rejoicing in the freedom from people trying to sell me something. It was the perfect 15 minutes in Mysore.

After a couple more solitary days, I moved on to the hill station town of Ooty. No, Ooty is not it's real name, but I can't spell the long form, so just google it..... More on Ooty in the next installment of 'Sepahi on the Move'.

"Eagle has landed"

I'm here!!

I arrived in the wee hours of the morning at the Mumbai airport to the stifling humidity and constant noise of Bombay. Hiral's dad was waiting as planned and he dutifully whisked me off to their lovely flat where I met Hiral's mom and tried to down the overwhelming amount of juice and sweets they plied me with. Then came sweet, sweet repose-- sleeping in until 1pm to recover from all the travel. And recover I did. The journey to Istanbul was a terrifying one, involving some severe turbulence, a 45 degree rolling jolt to one side and then another as the pilot over-corrected, and then a sickening, spiraling nosedive for about 4 eternal seconds - in which time, the nice Iraqi gentleman beside me said "relax!". I grabbed the seat in front of me and watched while my life flashed before my eyes... On the second flight, from Istanbul to Mumbai, things went a lot more smoothly. The plane was half empty, the in-flight service was nonstop and very friendly (I downed about of a litre of that cherry juice, Frances), and the seats could easily have been from the first class of any other carrier.

My first day in Mumbai began the way my previous night had ended- with persistent overstuffing by Hiral's parents. I woke up to a full lunch prepared by Purvi, her mom. Puri, aloo gobi, daal, pickled carrot thingies, and little bhaji crunchy thingies were served until I could eat no more. Then we went out on a driving tour of the city. I got to walk around the Gateway of India area, took a boat cruise around the seafront, and saw the World Trade Centre Mumbai buildings (they've got their own twin towers, albeit not as striking as the NY ones used to be) and the Taj hotel-- still being repaired folowing the attacks last November. Then we took a ride around the stock exchange and financial district where Hiral's dad, Kirit, works and Mumbai University where Hiral studied. We rounded out the afternoon with a sunset pass down Marine drive overlooking the Arabian Sea, a look at the Oberoi hotel, and dinner at Cream Centre- a vegetarian haunt with a global reputation for chana masala (my favourite-- although theirs wasn't as good as Hiral's... which is making me seriously consider her idea of us opening a restaurant)

This morning I woke up a 3am in order to get up and out to the airport for a flight to Bangalore followed by a bus ride to the city of Mysore. The city is smaller than Mumbai but no less humid and crowded and lively. It harbours a Raj-era palace and a famous market that I'll be taking in tomorrow.

So far, India is making a great impression on me. I came here prepared for Egypt levels of heckling and pestering, but aside from the rickshaw touts, I haven't experienced any harassment or badgering. People are wildly helpful. Moreso following a tip of 50 or 60 rupees, of course. But I'm finding my way and learning to let go of the constant planning and just going with the flow and making decisions on the ground instead of weeks in advance online.

I'll try to post some pictures from the first few days next time.

Ciao!

Mumbai in T-minus 36 hours

This is it. I'm leaving in 24 hours on a flight to Istanbul and then on to Mumbai. The itinerary is still largely a mystery and I'm heading towards a part of the world that even my wildest daydreams didn't think would ever happen so soon.

India has always been a 'someday' destination... you know, "Someday I'll see the Great Wall of China. Someday I'd love to climb Kilimanjaro. Someday it would be awesome to travel India for 2 months..."

Now it's really happening. Now, what?

Right now, the packing is all-consuming. I'm trying to walk that fine line between being prepared for a lot of scenarios and traveling light. Will I need hiking boots or just sandals? Reef shoes? How much toilet paper? How much do I trust the Indian Railways toilet facilities? How do you pack for 2 months in a completely foreign country? How do you pack for a trip that could potentially take you from tropical jungle, to teeming metropolis, to beach paradise, to Himalayan mountain landscapes?

In just over 36 hours I'll be touching down at Chattrapathi Shivaji International Airport, on the lookout for Hiral's dad in the arrivals hall and on my way to their flat in Mumbai. Only a day later, I'm due to depart on a 23-hour train ride to the southern city of Mysore to begin a 10-day trek around the south of India. I have no idea where I'm going precisely, I only have a few blurry goals of things I'd like to do and see. I don't know where I'm staying, none of the trusty accommodation listings in my rough guide have websites or online booking.... Basically, I have no effing clue what I'm getting myself into.

...and I thought finishing my master's would be the tough part.

Stay tuned to see what happens to Sepahi on the move.