Having given up our free will to the organizational genius of Doyal, we left the now-familiar and -familial environs of Jojie's Home Stay and Fort Cochin to explore the interior of Kerala. Remy looked forward to leaving the muggy climate of the coast for some cooler temperatures at altitude!
We were introduced to Anthony, our driver for the week. Dressed in what we would come to recognize as the driver's uniform (a white shirt and black pants), he patiently packed our luggage into the small trunk of his car, then patiently packed we four large Canadians into the passenger compartment. Poor Bowen, who had been suffering some gastrointestinal issues beginning the day before, was squeezed into the centre of the rear seat, atop the hump. The tight fit, at least, meant that he could sleep fully supported in the upright position for most of the trip, which became important once we hit the windy mountain roads.
The first hour was spent leaving Cochin, then Ernakulum, then all the smaller satellite towns. We finally broke free of urban sprawl into more open country, where we stopped for a lunch break at a roadside rest stop. That is where we first recognized that that our mode of travel was far from unique! The rest stop restaurant was divided between separate areas for the tourists and drivers to eat. I am sure the menu and prices reflected this divide. There were dozens of white vehicles in the parking lot, with attendant drivers all dressed in the uniform described above. The drivers kept an eye on their charges, and made sure that when the passengers returned to the car they were there ahead of time to open the doors. Liz was tickled that Anthony called her "madam" the whole trip and held the door for her, a bit of chivalry to which she is never treated at home.
The gradient of the road increased, in inverse proportion to the width of the roadway. It became apparent early on that Anthony was a careful driver, for which we were extremely thankful. The narrow highway was crowded with buses, trucks, rickshaws and other tourist vehicles. The road itself was in good repair, though, in contrast to our experience so far in India.
There were a couple of waterfalls that crossed the highway along the way. They were pretty awesome to see, but there were two other features that captured our attention.
Firstly, it was at the waterfalls that we became aware of our currency as trophies. We were approached by gangs of young men who wanted to have their photos taken with us. Initially, only one or two would approach us and ask us to pose in a photo with them, which would then result in a stampede of all the other members of their group rushing over to join in. It was discomfiting at first, as they were not shy about removing the sunglasses from our faces and the hats from our heads and putting these items on themselves. As well, great gangs of people would seemingly come out of nowhere and suddenly be pressed up on all sides, prompting one to feel the sudden need to check the security of wallet and other valuables. But it turned out to be something done in all innocence, and it appears that our smiling white faces will be gracing the photo albums of dozens of people whom we shall never know.
Secondly, it was our first exposure to the phenomenon of the "waterfall monkey". Macaques concentrate around the waterfalls due to the the concentration of people and the subsequent concentration of garbage. They are quite inured to the company of humans, and we wore out the shutter button taking photos of the monkeys long after we had lost interest in the falls.
We stopped at an Ayurvedic spice garden along the way and took the tour. Afterward, during the hard sell in the gift shop to buy spices (all of which promised miracle cures of ailments that seem to attack one's vanity, primarily), Bowen joined us from the car where he had been resting his sick belly. He was given a dose of Ayurvedic medicine which consisted of a handful of nutmeg mixed with honey that he was to lick off his palm. You can imagine how he enjoyed that!
We also stopped at a roadside toddy stand for an authentic cultural experience. Toddy is a drink made of the sap of a species of palm which again is purported to have medicinal qualities. The drink ferments throughout the day, so it gains in intoxicating potency the later you drink it (though it never gets to be more alcoholic than beer). We entered the dank confines of the toddy shack, which is usually the unique domain of men (and generally the local layabouts and ne'er-do-wells, if our assessment of the denizens was accurate), so Liz created quite a buzz. A used liquor bottle of dubious origin, which had been refilled with toddy, was produced, along with a couple of worn glasses which had obviously just been washed in a manner that was equally as dubious. Remy put on a brave if foolhardy face and drank a couple of glasses, professing great admiration for the hooch as a means of beating a graceful retreat from this den of iniquity. Both eyesight and stomach were unaffected by this foray into the unregulated unknown, and Remy's curiosity about this aspect of South Indian culture was satisfied.
We experienced our first mountain rainfall before pulling in to Munnar. The water came down in sheets so hard that the windshield wipers on Anthony's intrepid Tata car were overwhelmed. The air had noticeably cooled during our ascent of the highlands, which was a welcome relief from the muggy heat of Cochin, but now it was a damp cold. We were installed into our guest house which had been arranged by Doyal, our host in Cochin, who had called Anthony's cell phone en route to check that we were comfortable. The guest house was new, with a great view of the valley when it wasn't socked in with clouds. We were introduced to Joy Francis, the man managing the house for its owner, and Liz' reticence about staying in a house managed by a man proved to be well founded as the place could have been cleaner. Liz prefers to stay in places managed by women as they seem to appreciate a clean bathroom more than the men.
The following morning, we found ourselves paying the entrance fee to Dreamland, an Indian version of Disneyland. It is a lawyer's nightmare, combining many homemade, high-risk thrill rides in a muddy jungle setting. We had a lot of fun there.
Next we drove to the Kavan Delan Tea factory, where we saw the process by which tea is prepared for consumption, followed by some of the best chai that we had in all of India, for 5 rupees a cup.
That night we attended a demonstration of kalaripayattu, which is believed to be the progenitor of all other martial arts. While it is still practiced as a martial art by some, it is generally more of a performance art now, characterized by high-flying acrobatics and the clash of steel weapons.
We spent the next day moving ourselves to the town of Thekkady, which is adjacent to the Periyar Tiger Preserve. The drive through the Western Ghat mountains was beautiful, winding through tea plantations and jungle where the pepper, cardamom and coffee grew right to the edge of the road. We now found ourselves in a guest house managed by a woman, and the place was spotless!
The following day was spent taking the guided hike into the preserve. We all donned the highly fashionable "leech socks", which proved not to be very effective as Liz discovered a leech on her stomach before we had even left the ranger station. We walked through the jungle for a couple of hours, accompanied by a guide, who was silent for most of the walk, and an armed guard who slung a rusty old .303 rifle in case we were attacked by one of the alleged tigers. Other than some monkeys, the wildlife made itself scarce that day, and the closest we got to any of the preserve's marquee animals was a pile of elephant dung and some footprints of a tiger and of an elephant. The apogee of the trip was a float on a lake on a bamboo raft. The guide paddled us out and back, looking for elephants along the shore, while we all sat with our feet in the water due to the fact that the bamboo was waterlogged. Bowen missed this particular adventure due to his still-gamey tummy.
The final leg of our excellent road adventure had us descend from the mountains to the town of Alleppey, where we boarded a houseboat for an overnight trip on the backwaters of Kerala.
This was what had prompted our visit to India in the first place! With about 800 houseboats plying the waters in the area now, the experience was somewhat like a slow motion tuk tuk ride on water, with boats careening past each other, near-miss head-on collisions and the beeping of horns. But the food was good, Remy got to go for a paddle in a traditional dugout canoe, and when we tied up for the night and watched the sun set, to a soundtrack of Carnatic singing being piped out from an unseen speaker, things could not have been more exotic.
The following day we returned to Fort Cochin where we had some personal administration to take care of before beginning the next leg of our journey through India. We humped our bags through the muggy streets of Alleppey. We had ourselves steered to the bus station and climbed aboard one of the local buses. We were lucky to get seats, as the bus filled up quickly as we began to move, slowly, stopping wherever anyone waved it down. Buses are king of the road in India, passing on corners and forcing smaller vehicles to the shoulder with a bellow from their horn. The only thing the bus is afraid of is the garishly-painted 10 ton trucks that roar down the highways. Hollis had a close call with one when our bus was driving on the wrong side of the road, passing another vehicle, when a truck came head-on down the road and forcing our driver to swerve suddenly to the correct lane. We passed the truck so closely they Hollis' elbow, which he had outside his window, actually brushed the side of the truck as it went by! Needless to say, Hollis learned a lesson about travel in India and the danger of projecting any part of the body outside of a vehicle!
By the time we arrived in Fort Cochin, squeezed in like sardines and Hollis shaken by his close encounter, we felt that we had earned our bus-riding badge. We were glad to spot Biju, our tuk tuk driver, waiting at the road junction where we were to get down from the bus. He had been dispatched by Doyal, the owner of the home stay in Fort Cochin, to meet us and bring us in.We were happy to be taken back in by Doyal and Sophia, our family in Fort Cochin. It felt like a homecoming to settle back in to the familiarity of their guest house and to spend the next few days looking after mundane details in the town where we felt so comfortable. Once we were recharged and resupplied, we would be off to the state of Goa!
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| Farewell to our Fort Cochin family! |
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| Our trusty driver and his trusty, if cramped, car. |
The gradient of the road increased, in inverse proportion to the width of the roadway. It became apparent early on that Anthony was a careful driver, for which we were extremely thankful. The narrow highway was crowded with buses, trucks, rickshaws and other tourist vehicles. The road itself was in good repair, though, in contrast to our experience so far in India.
There were a couple of waterfalls that crossed the highway along the way. They were pretty awesome to see, but there were two other features that captured our attention.
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| The waterfall. |
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| Us taking a picture of them taking a picture of us. |
Secondly, it was our first exposure to the phenomenon of the "waterfall monkey". Macaques concentrate around the waterfalls due to the the concentration of people and the subsequent concentration of garbage. They are quite inured to the company of humans, and we wore out the shutter button taking photos of the monkeys long after we had lost interest in the falls.
 |
| These are not as cute as they look. |
We stopped at an Ayurvedic spice garden along the way and took the tour. Afterward, during the hard sell in the gift shop to buy spices (all of which promised miracle cures of ailments that seem to attack one's vanity, primarily), Bowen joined us from the car where he had been resting his sick belly. He was given a dose of Ayurvedic medicine which consisted of a handful of nutmeg mixed with honey that he was to lick off his palm. You can imagine how he enjoyed that!
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| Hollis is excited to learn about spices, which are actually weeds and parasites. |
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| This will make your stomach feel better! |
We also stopped at a roadside toddy stand for an authentic cultural experience. Toddy is a drink made of the sap of a species of palm which again is purported to have medicinal qualities. The drink ferments throughout the day, so it gains in intoxicating potency the later you drink it (though it never gets to be more alcoholic than beer). We entered the dank confines of the toddy shack, which is usually the unique domain of men (and generally the local layabouts and ne'er-do-wells, if our assessment of the denizens was accurate), so Liz created quite a buzz. A used liquor bottle of dubious origin, which had been refilled with toddy, was produced, along with a couple of worn glasses which had obviously just been washed in a manner that was equally as dubious. Remy put on a brave if foolhardy face and drank a couple of glasses, professing great admiration for the hooch as a means of beating a graceful retreat from this den of iniquity. Both eyesight and stomach were unaffected by this foray into the unregulated unknown, and Remy's curiosity about this aspect of South Indian culture was satisfied.
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| Time for a toddy! |
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| Here's to not going blind! |
We experienced our first mountain rainfall before pulling in to Munnar. The water came down in sheets so hard that the windshield wipers on Anthony's intrepid Tata car were overwhelmed. The air had noticeably cooled during our ascent of the highlands, which was a welcome relief from the muggy heat of Cochin, but now it was a damp cold. We were installed into our guest house which had been arranged by Doyal, our host in Cochin, who had called Anthony's cell phone en route to check that we were comfortable. The guest house was new, with a great view of the valley when it wasn't socked in with clouds. We were introduced to Joy Francis, the man managing the house for its owner, and Liz' reticence about staying in a house managed by a man proved to be well founded as the place could have been cleaner. Liz prefers to stay in places managed by women as they seem to appreciate a clean bathroom more than the men.
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| Breakfast on the roof of the guest house. |
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| Scooter race! They were upset we did not wear helmets - in India! |
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| Riding the cable trolley. |
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| Ropes course. No crocodiles, only fish in the water. |
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| As you can see, Bowen's tummy was feeling better. |
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| There are three humps in this photo. |
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| Riding a camel, Indian style! |
Next we drove to the Kavan Delan Tea factory, where we saw the process by which tea is prepared for consumption, followed by some of the best chai that we had in all of India, for 5 rupees a cup.
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| Tea toilers on their way to work. |
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| Learning about tea. |
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| Chai is served in small cups by small people. |
That night we attended a demonstration of kalaripayattu, which is believed to be the progenitor of all other martial arts. While it is still practiced as a martial art by some, it is generally more of a performance art now, characterized by high-flying acrobatics and the clash of steel weapons.
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| Like professional wrestling, but with real weapons. |
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| Swashbuckling! |
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| Members of the audience trying to kiss their butts goodbye while some maniac leaps over them with a knife. |
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| Street scene in Munnar. |
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| The Gauntlet of rickshas in Munnar. Taxi? Taxi? |
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| Eucalyptus forests planted as fuel for the tea factories. |
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| The spices grow right up to the edge of the roads! Alternate caption - a rose amongst the horns. |
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| Parents love to decorate their kids in India. |
The following day was spent taking the guided hike into the preserve. We all donned the highly fashionable "leech socks", which proved not to be very effective as Liz discovered a leech on her stomach before we had even left the ranger station. We walked through the jungle for a couple of hours, accompanied by a guide, who was silent for most of the walk, and an armed guard who slung a rusty old .303 rifle in case we were attacked by one of the alleged tigers. Other than some monkeys, the wildlife made itself scarce that day, and the closest we got to any of the preserve's marquee animals was a pile of elephant dung and some footprints of a tiger and of an elephant. The apogee of the trip was a float on a lake on a bamboo raft. The guide paddled us out and back, looking for elephants along the shore, while we all sat with our feet in the water due to the fact that the bamboo was waterlogged. Bowen missed this particular adventure due to his still-gamey tummy.
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| Apparently the leeches can leap to knee height in the jungle! |
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| As close as we got to seeing a tiger. |
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| As close as we got to an elephant. |
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| Bamboo submarine. |
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| A beautiful paddle on the lake, with a beautiful set of gams! |
The final leg of our excellent road adventure had us descend from the mountains to the town of Alleppey, where we boarded a houseboat for an overnight trip on the backwaters of Kerala.
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| Roadside chai! |
 |
| A pimped-out bullock. |
This was what had prompted our visit to India in the first place! With about 800 houseboats plying the waters in the area now, the experience was somewhat like a slow motion tuk tuk ride on water, with boats careening past each other, near-miss head-on collisions and the beeping of horns. But the food was good, Remy got to go for a paddle in a traditional dugout canoe, and when we tied up for the night and watched the sun set, to a soundtrack of Carnatic singing being piped out from an unseen speaker, things could not have been more exotic.
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| Rocking the lungi in Kerala! |
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| Our house boat living room. |
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| The boys chilling on the yacht. |
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| A typical house boat. |
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| Beautiful sunset in exotic Kerala! |
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| Remy is happiest when in a canoe. |
By the time we arrived in Fort Cochin, squeezed in like sardines and Hollis shaken by his close encounter, we felt that we had earned our bus-riding badge. We were glad to spot Biju, our tuk tuk driver, waiting at the road junction where we were to get down from the bus. He had been dispatched by Doyal, the owner of the home stay in Fort Cochin, to meet us and bring us in.We were happy to be taken back in by Doyal and Sophia, our family in Fort Cochin. It felt like a homecoming to settle back in to the familiarity of their guest house and to spend the next few days looking after mundane details in the town where we felt so comfortable. Once we were recharged and resupplied, we would be off to the state of Goa!
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