Monday March 9th, 2009 (12 days ago):
Our hellish train journey brings us deep into Kerala, which in 1957 made history by democratically electing a communist-led government. We hop off in Allepey, the gateway to the Keralan backwaters, from where we'll catch a ride on a houseboat. The backwaters are a chain of lagoons and lakes, connected by canals and fed by some 38 rivers. The labyrinthine system is formed by more than 900km of waterways and connects towns and cities, providing a superb mode of transport for people and goods.
We are met at the station by Mattiew, a guy who's been recommended to us to help sort out our houseboat cruise. He takes us to his guesthouse; it's brand new, has a grand marble staircase, and the most beautiful toilet I've seen in weeks. We settle in for the night and rest up for our day of cruising tomorrow. Tom, an Australian we met in Hampi, arrives at 6 am and takes our numbers up to 6. A few hours later we arrive at the dock and are told our vessel's not there yet. We're waiting between two plush looking boats, but I'm expecting ours to be a pole powered, simple amenities deal, seems how it's only costing $20 each for the night and three meals.
In pulls a floating fortress, wedging tightly between the other boats. 8000 rupees has landed us the nicest looking ship on the river; four bedrooms, all with one exterior wall of glass and individual bathroom, a beautiful dining room with a round table that'd be the envy of the knights, and an open air living room complete with polished dark wood walls and a flat screen. It's a palace equipped with a four person crew, whose sole purpose is to keep us happy. I'm pretty sure I don't deserve any of this.
Five minutes after boarding we've each grabbed a throne (in the living room, not porcelain) and are sipping fresh coconut. We spend the next few hours passing palm lined rice paddies, shrieking and waving children, and waterfront shops. We tie up in a lake and are served a delicious lunch; I haven't had anyone actually dish out my food for me since I was three, seconds too! After lunch we share a few cigars, lounging around on the overstuffed sofa area at the front of the boat. A fisherman pulls up his small canoe-ish boat and sells us some enormous prawns; they look like albino lobsters...don't know if I'd actually eat anything out of this water. Cruising again we ease quickly into our luxurious surroundings; tea anyone? Before we know it it's dinner-time and we're watching the sun set behind a row of black palms, the birds getting in their last songs of the day. The beauty and serenity is broken by the sound of a helicopter, wait, no it's much closer; good God, it's the mosquitoes. They're kicking up the papers on the table as they lower down onto their heli-pad, which is, unfortunately, any part of showing flesh. These things are massive and immune to DEET; not quite paradise found after all.
U ioeb nt etes abd sqyubtl U cab see nt feet abd hyst betibd tgen tge syb us akreadt bkazubg hyst abive tge giruzibm gikdeb ku................um, sorry, I just realized I was off by a key on the keyboard.......
(I just took a lunch break, and the guy at the little veggie restaurant had to come by and correct Court and I on our eating technique, turns out there's a certain way you're supposed to eat with your hands; first rolling little balls of rice and curry with your fingers, keeping your pads clean, then popping them in with your thumb. All of this took place over our banana leaf plates.)
I rub my sleepy eyes and open them, immediately jolted awake by the magnificent view. Just beyond my feet, out the massive wall/window the sun is just beginning to make it's way above the horizon, already ablaze, golden light flooding in. Ripples in the water are pulsing flames licking at the canal's edges. I remain in bed, enjoying fully this perfect moment.
Out in the dining area we spot a commotion on shore; men are running around laughing, half naked, throwing what looks like colored powder on each other. We make a b-line for the action and find out that it's Holi, "Festival of Colors," a Hindu spring celebration. Soon we're all covered in a kaleidoscope of talcum powder; it'll take me two days to get all the yellow out of my ears and orange tinges can still be found in my hair. My eyelashes bat blue as I grab handfuls of powder and chuck them at the closest person, rubbing the rest into Court's hair. I look at our posse and laugh out loud; we look like the aftermath of an explosion at the Crayola factory.
When the colors run out we stop and chat with the guys who initiated the colorful battle. Turns out all the hard bodies we're surrounded by aren't just a fluke, but belong to India's National Kayak and Canoe Team, not to mention a few Olympians.
The guys all jump in the water, but we're in India, so the girls must refrain, modesty prevails. Back on the boat, and freshly showered (with now ruined towels we'll have to pay for), we're getting a little sad our high life will be ending soon. This was a nice taste of what life is like after you've "made it;" maybe not Jay-Z power yacht in Greece made it, but something like that.
Back on dry land we head for the local bus stand and board one headed north for Fort Kochin. We claim the back seats and are a tangled mess of backpacks and limbs; travelling six deep can be a chore!
Fort Kochin is an old Portuguese city built on an island just off the mainland, accessible by ferry or a long bridge. It's Portuguese heritage is evident in the crumbling storefronts and narrow alleys. It's Josh's last night, he's flying back to London to sort out his mom's will, so we find a place that'll serve us alcohol. Alcohol is hard to get in these parts, and since they just held elections, it's especially hard to find. We manage to stumble on a little joint that'll serve us "Special Tea" and settle in. A thunderstorm has just opened up, so we're feeling pretty cozy with our bottle or rum; that is until we look around at the corrugated metal roof and walls of our flimsy second story perch, one of the tallest building around, lit by lightning cracking overhead. I go to step outside, enjoy some off the cool air and get out of the lightning magnet, and the waiter tells me to wait until the rain stops. He says that the first three rains of the season bring down all the pollution in the air; awesome, acid rain!
Back at the hotel Josh packs his things to grab his 2am flight up to Mumbai and then London. It's a teary eyed goodbye, but like so many friends I've met along the way, they're for life, so really it's more of a "See ya later."
Thursday March 12: I wake up early and head out for a stroll, opting to take one of the many winding alleys through stuccoed homes. The narrow cobblestone paths allow leisurely foot traffic, unhurried, away from the busy main-veins. Women are stinging up colorful laundry and I can hear children laughing and shrieking behind closed doors. Goats wander, sit, and munch on posters; curious dark eyes pear out from barred windows and tiny hands flick a wave. Men stare; even though I'm always conscious to cover my shoulders and knees, a tall blond is not an everyday sight in these parts. I head toward the water to catch the huge Chinese style fishing nets in action. A huge net is submerged, strung between wooden beams jutting out from the land, small boulders are dangling from a rope 20 ft in the air. Three men stand out on the scaffolding in the water as several others pull the rocks back to earth, the rocks' weight then pulling the enormous net out of the water. I nudge closer; a few fish flop around, stranded, but for the most part it's trash and debris. No fish outta this water for me.
We hire a rickshaw for the day and tour the town. We wander through warehouses full of spices in all stages, piles of ginger being sifted, kicking up a sneeze inducing powder, cumin and curry powder lay a light yellow film on our clothes. Then we swing by the history museum, pop into a few souvenir shops, and poke around the local "laundromat;" loads are being washed by hand and ironed with a coal powered iron. School's out and I stop to count heads in an auto rickshaw; 19 little plaid-clad bodies are crammed in the three-wheeler.
Early the following morning Court, Vegar the Norweigen, and I are hopping a bus for Coimbatore, a city in the neighboring state of Tamil Nadu, that's in transit to the mountain station of Ooty, our next destination. Tom the Aussie heads up to Goa to meet a friend flying in, and Renee the Brit is south-bound for a yoga retreat. And then there were three.
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