Fabulous Fireflies

Thursday evening, and a night I shall treasure. My lovely Irish friend Stella invited me to her village home, near where she works at an international school in the hills outside Kandy. A 30 min tuck tuck ride through villages, palm trees, climbing up into the peaks and looking down on the lake, and into a quiet village by the dam, the largest one in Sri Lanka.
As the sun set, we walked the family dog along the river banks, where village families washed and bathed on rocks, whilst the massive waters teemed below (its the wiidest river in the country), we went over the dam wall and into the forest beyond.
For the first time in my life I was surrounded by fireflies. It was magical, as if I was surrounded by fairies.
On our return, there was a sumptious feast cooked from scratch by the family who own the house, so much food, enough for 10, not 2, from 'hoppers' (like crepes) and dosas, dahl curries, vegetable pastries, vegetable curries, rice, savoury sauces, and fresh mango and guava juice.
All too soon, time to return to the 'bates motel', as this is colloquially known, but Stella has arranged a reliable driver whose tuck tuck weaved along the narrow country 'lanes', balancing precariously along ledges and ditches, and delivered me safely back to my little room before the gates slammed shut!
Sri Lanka is a beautiful county, walking in the twilight under the mountain tops along the fast flowing waters surrounded by fireflies, and returning to a home cooked feast with a true kind welcome from a local family has been a night to remember.

Kandy - Wednesday

The Temple of the Sacred Tooth, and by chance, given the mass of people, a meeting with the couple from Cornwall I’d met at Colombo station on the way down here, a meeting which could have been divine intervention, as it led to a lovely day and the chance to get to know Theresa and Robin much better.
The temple is the most sacred site in Sir Lanka, and I’d timed my visit to see the opening of the door onto the relic, hidden inside a wall of gold and silver, but a moving experience, to see hundreds of worshippers pushing and crying, waving offerings. The babies here are kept inside for three months until they can be taken to the temple to be blessed, so there is an inner ‘pen’ which was full of mothers holding up infants,  which made me cry.
In the crush I’d been befriended by a group of volunteers in an orientation tour, who ‘adopted’ me, and so I had the benefit of their informative tour guide, learning much about Buddhism and the history of the temple, seeing hidden ‘gems’ such as the pictures which look painted but are actually made of precious stones, and being allowed out on the royal balcony overlooking the city.
It takes about two hours to see all the shrines, temple artefacts, museums, etc,…fascinating and moving though it was,  it was with great delight I accepted an invitation from my friends to go back with them to enjoy their hospitality in their 5 star hotel outside Kandy.
So this afternoon I spent by the pool in their luxurious hotel, wallowing in the cool water, admiring the palms waving overhead, and drinking ginger beer in the hot sun. Their room is the size of the whole place I’m perched in, sheer luxury, it was bliss.
In the evening we went out together to see the Kandian dancers, the cultural show at the YMBA, and then to dinner….they decided my recommendation from last night was preferable to their driver’s choice (he was miffed) and so another delightful supper with friends, discussing England, travels, family and……….chickens and marmite!!

Kandy

First morning in Kandy, and a pleasant fruit platter and toast in the shady courtyard garden followed by a row with the chauvinist manager here: who finally agreed to change my room for one with working a/c, TV, and no leaking toilet!
The lakefront is charming, if traffic clogged, and the city the usual jumble to alleys, markets and posh upmarket shopping malls. The cool breeze is delightful after the heat of Colombo, and I took the tuc tuc the 10km outside the town to the botanical gardens, to wallow in the mountain air, and admire the lakes, fabulous flowers, and the splendid orchid house.
Similar to England, bar the monkeys, which attack at every turn, and the deafening fruit bats………..!
This evening I met up with Stella, the Irish teacher now working in the school here, who took me to a delightful old wooden restaurant, with a tree lined courtyard and walls lined with historic photographs, and pictures of British Monarchy. Where for the first time since leaving England I enjoyed a superb salad.

Kandy

Train ride from Colombo to Kandy-Fabulous!!
Words fail me; for once…..the three hour steady climb from the intense heat and bright light of the beach and Colombo city through the rocks and peaks of the hill country to Kandy, the highest point of Sri Lanka, is stupendous.
The sheer breathtaking beauty of the lush countryside, waterfalls, tea plantations, looming Rock Mountains, dotted with temples and villages, is just amazing.
The cool mountain air is full of magnolia and azalea smells, bananas hang so close to the windows you can pick them, and the train track seems to hang from the very edge of the cliff as it edges into Kandy.
It’s been one of the most amazing experiences so far, and shown me the true beauty of Sri Lanka.
I set off this morning in the blistering heat to catch the only train from Galle to Colombo for the Kandy connection-this being a public holiday-but the train, although only 3rd class, so benches and no loos, was fine, quiet, just a few families, all sharing food and chatting with me, as usual, a pleasant contrast to the usual maddening crowds.
At Colombo I managed to upgrade on the Kandy route to first class, for the princely sum of an extra 200 rupees, and passed an enjoyable hour waiting in the station café, with another English couple, enjoying lunch of tea and curd yoghurt-very like Victoria Station…
The plush first class carriage had wonderful padded seats, and good views from the observation windows  but I spent most of the time standing in the open doorway staring out at the glorious countryside, especially as we left the south behind and began the climb up through the rocky hillsides.

The train to Kandy

View from the train

The tiredness evaporated with sheer exhilaration as I watched the hills surround us. The tea plantations spreading below, colourful flowers, birds, cattle, the diverse greens and the setting sun as we pulled into Kandy.
This motel is somewhat basic, but I’m on a high from the train trip, so am curling up in my bed for an early night, in the hope that the included breakfast tomorrow comes up with enough food to make up for the lack of other facilities (I have to climb over the loo to get into the shower, and there is a state of the art TV-which doesn’t work!).

Sunny Sunday

Today at moments I could have been in Lewes, bar of course the 40 degree heat.
I wandered out this morning along the church lined historic streets of Galle Fort, past the Methodist Church, the Catholic Church, hymns at every corning, and enjoyed breakfast at the YMBA-the Young Man’s Buddhist Association.

As you can see from the pic, I then found the ‘Golden Flea Market’ and sat with a delicious strawberry and guava tea, reading the Sunday times!

Despite browsing the second hand stalls run mainly by ex-pats living here, I didn’t buy anything, instead spending a few hours admiring the ‘museums’ in the ancient buildings in the ramparts…an eclectic collection leading to courtyards full of craftsman ready to sell their wares.
The old town, with its relatively traffic free streets - only tuck tucks should get through the arches into the old fort (although taxis seem to manage!) and cobbled streets, and the high walls looking down onto small coves with clear blue shallow water, even sights of dolphins in the waves, made a relaxing change to city, it was a delight to just walk quietly among the flower lined alleys, admire the craft shops, and sit under the banyan trees admiring the sight of temples, mosques and churches sitting harmoniously alongside each other in the sunlight.
I met up with the German mother/daughter and aunt from yesterday’s train trip, and agreed to share a tuk tuk to the harbour with them….a spur of the moment decision which proved great fun! The harbour, outside the fort and alongside the new town, was heaving with fishing boats, and the fishermen rushed to show us their catch of enormous tuna.
Their temple and prayer tree was a moving tribute to the fact that many die young, either at sea or in accidents aboard, (see pic of me standing underneath it). Everyone was delighted to see us, and insisted on taking us into the ice storage building (chilly!), though more bizarre was to see the massive blocks of ice coming down the chute and into a ‘chopper’ to be deposited into woven bags and taken as ice cubes with the catch to the restaurants.

The Prayer Tree

This evening I had a final twilight stroll to watch the setting sun, eating spiced chickpeas, drinking ginger tea from my favourite stall and enjoying a ‘crocodile’, a massive sweet sugary bun, as well as deep fried lentil and veg biscuits and, for desert, a wonderful strawberry soya ice cream in a green cone, from the street vendors.
The street food here is fab, but comes wrapped not in newspaper, as per India, but in old school exercise books…my biscuits were wrapped in paper inscribed with Sri Lankan/English alphabet in a childlike pen…I may not have been ill in India, but I may be tempting fate in Sri Lanka!!

Galle.

Set off today for the three hour train ride to Galle…being a Saturday, the entire city of Colombo apparently wanted to get on the same train!
Fortunately, although it was heaving and a struggle to get on, as yesterday, families immediately offered me a seat, even an elderly woman wanted to move so I could sit down, bless her.
The overhead fans do little in the heat; wind does come though the windows but the crush of people prevents much ventilation. Still, I arrived safely, and got a tucktuck safely to my guest house inside the historic Galle Fort.
The guesthouse is relatively pricey (though I have negotiated a better rate now I’m here) but in the centre of the walled fort, now a historic site, and this evening I walked the ramparts watching the setting sun with the throngs of families and tourists, eating spiced chickpeas and drinking ginger tea.
And two bizarre sights: the military bases –which are everywhere here-holding a celebration where the commanders were ‘piped’ in by exotic aboriginal dancers  and, as I clambered the ramparts to look at the new town in the darkness, below me is a circus, with a showground and a dog show!!

Commanders Arrival

The Circus and Dog Show

This country is certainly full of surprises!!

Colombo to GALLE

My final day in Colombo, and abiding impressions today are of kindness and overwhelming national pride, even despite the constant hassle-I’ve met several native sri lankans who confirm my belief that the pestering here is worse than India, on exactly the grounds I’d worked out, that there is a massive gap between rich and poor, and its inconceivable to the poor that any white person can’t be rich!
Post the sumptuous breakfast I set off to try out the trains, and bought a 3 rd class ticket to Mount Lavania, the upmarket beach suburb. On boarding, I was ushered into second class by everyone, who insisted I should move carriages, without paying.
The train is British Rail from the fifties, certainly better than India, though with the same sellers and hawkers clambering over/in/ on people all the time…you never go hungry or thirsty in this continent.
Mount Lavinia was badly damaged by the tsunami, and the restaurants and fishing villages have regrown along the edge of the beach. The lavish landmark Mount Lavinia Hotel sits grandly on the cliff top, but everything else has a desolate air to it, more fishermen than tourists.
It was here that I met two native sri lankans, one married to a Japanese lady, and one to a Swedish lady, both of who were keen to tell me how much they loved revisiting their native land, seeing family, and visiting old haunts, both keen to praise their country, and also to sigh about its decline-the economy here is struggling, and the tourists are not coming.
Returning to Colombo in the afternoon cool, I browsed the alleys and souks of Pettah, the bazaar quarter, discovering the dried fish market (the smell and the flies!), fruit stalls, wonderful nuts and spices, and clothes of every possible description.
So supper was a wonderful spiced mango packet, oranges, and red sugar sweets drenched in fat, gorgeous but soooo fattening. I gave away most of them to an old man begging, and he was genuinely delighted, kissing my feet, which made me feel bad for often thinking the worst.

Day 2

Buffet breakfast of fruit salad/cakes/toast and jam overlooking the harbour, well done The Grand Oriental, she may be showing her age, like me, but she does dish up a good, complimentary start to the day!
Walking anywhere, even up the stairs here, is a mystery to the locals, staff keep insisting I should get the lift, and rickshaws follow me even the 5  minutes to Galle Face, unable, or unwilling, to believe I want to walk!
An English ex-pat befriended me whilst I was browsing in the World Trade Centre, and offered to get me an ‘honest’ rickshaw driver for a sightseeing tour.  So off I went in the tuck tuck, and immediately we stop, the driver takes me to a temple, I part with money for a photo, and 5 minutes later, the same routine…at which point I decided my idea of honest and his were not the same.

in the tuck-tuck, courtesy of the guide!

In fairness, when I told him enough and that I would pay half and go, he suddenly became genuinely pleasant…I reckon it was simply that he thought I was rich, so  money was no object…but its expensive here compared to India anyway, and I’m back-packing, not on holiday!
We spent a pleasant hour (1,000 sr rupees, about £5) buzzing between temples, along the lake, over to Independence Square, and along to the park where elephants work/roam, elephants are everywhere here, and currently being prepared for Colombo’s annual temple festival, so many stalls selling elephant decorations, floats being prepared, offerings built, great fun to watch, though I’m sorry for the poor elephants.

At Independence Square, the British built memorial and garden at the hand over in 1948….the Dutch Catholic church tower is behind.

The lake is gorgeous, as are the birds, herons, flamingos, magnolia trees, honeysuckle, I could be in Hyde Park, the pedalos ply for tourist trade, ice cream/popcorn sellers abound, and the yellow MacDonald Arches clash with the temple towers.
I leave my ‘friend’ at the famous Barefoot Art Gallery, where I had a pleasant tea in the shady courtyard. This is a popular haunt for ex-pats and tourists, with multi media art, a shop selling designer fabrics and designs, jazz music playing in the background with the smell of real coffee….just like a mini Lewes, apart from the 35 degree heat!

making friends with wooden sculptures at Barefoot Art Gallery

This town is such an odd mixture of architecture, the French and Dutch glorious historical buildings overlooked by massive skyscrapers, and the shacks of the slums and bazaar alleys which snake off the westernised main road. The street vendors sell unfamiliar food; mainly fish based chapattis or sweet cakes, but also superb spiced olives/fruits. Today’s supper was spiced pineapple, very chilli based but good, plus bananas, fried tapioca strips and an ice cream, watching the sunset as the army went through their exercises and school children celebrated sports day on the green opposite.
Off to watch BBC and find out what else I have missed in the world…I have plans to visit the museums tomorrow, but I also love just wandering in Colombo, absorbing the difference culture and the new sights and sounds. Ceylon certainly isn’t India, despite the obvious similarities; it’s a country in its own right in every way.

standing looking pensive outside the Hindu temple…the colourful figures loom in an enormous tower behind me,

SRI LANKA - day 1

My decision to stay in Colombo puzzled the taxi driver –why stay in the city, he insisted, despite my explanation that I wasn’t here for the beach. And the drive in certainly isn’t pretty, but after India the roads are wider, the shops bigger, the electricity stays on (!) ….’India Light’ looks a fair description, at first glance.
The Grand Oriental Hotel here has seen better days, but it has a quaint charm. Plus, a/c which works-a bath (minus plug, but I have one, hehe!) and a comfortable bed and pillows….and those three things are worth the relative cost of staying in the capitol!!
I’m also in Colombo Fort, the very heart of the city, and 5 minutes walk from Galle Face, the promenade along the sea thronged at sunset by the usual crowds and stalls.
Too exhausted to do much after arriving at lunchtime bar sinking into the bath, lying on the comfy pillows, and watching BBC for the first time in weeks (I discover David Cameron really is in India, that’s what the locals were on about!) until I staggered out late afternoon to join the evening procession.
First impressions here…skyscrapers/historic buildings/shops/tiny alleys…like London but very hot! And despite the sense of familiar western comforts/lifestyles, a stronger sense too of ‘them and us’.
In India, everyone wants something, from anyone/everyone…nothing is personal. Here, at least in the city, there is a strong Ex-pat community, and immediately I was targeted as ‘wealthy’, followed by beggars/rickshaws/touts, and accosted, albeit politely, by the office girl in the hotel here who asked if I could help her get a British visa!
The police here leap out and stop the traffic for westerners to cross the roads, the armed guards at the palace and the naval bases by the hotel smile and wave…machine guns held aloft in mock salute….I feel exposed here, despite, or maybe because of, the number of white faces.

Farewell to India, Hallo Sri Lanka.

Sixth sense prevented my writing too much re India before the final day.
Instincts were right; my departure from India was as hard my arrival!
Kerala’s public service workers (i.e. nearly everyone in the state) called a lightening strike for 20th and 21st, no buses, no taxis, no trains, no anything, in protest at the rising costs.
 I found this out moments after it was announced, on the morning of the 19th when I went to book a taxi for the flight for the next day…no chance, was the unanimous verdict.
The police station, where a kindly female tour operator sent me for advice, were also very kind, but simply said I must travel that evening, before everything shut at midnight.
In tears trying to locate a taxi, alongside most of Kerala, I was spotted by the genuinely lovely lad from Kashmir who runs one of the shops near my little room.
He offered to come up for me/luggage (my room is up a flight of stairs and a rutted alley, a fantastic ‘find’ but not user friendly for cases) plus arrange me a taxi. Going with my instincts I trusted him, and went to pack.
My final afternoon was spent watching the most glorious sunset I have seen in the many weeks I  have been here. Sitting sipping chai watching the sun on the waves through waving coconut palms, eating my final savoury pastries and ice creams. I feel this is a country of such contrasts, I could live here for ever and yet never fully understand it, the extremes of wonder and horror in equal measure.
As I walked back along the sands I saw an English couple standing in tears by the taxi rank and offered to share my lift-by chance, we were on the same flight.
They trusted me, I trusted my friend, and our mutual trust was repaid, he came for me, his driver was an honest ambassador taxi owner, and we arrived safely at Thrivandrum airport just before midnight.
Eerily, on the dot of midnight, the shutters slammed shut on the taxi counters, the constant hooting and shouting silenced, and a creepy calm swept over the normally hectic roads and ranks outside.
Inside, we, plus hundreds of others, made ourselves as comfortable as possible on seats with metal arms…I managed an hour sleeping on the floor, I really have turned into an Indian; people here sleep everywhere, even in the middle of busy roads and pavements.
As the sun rose, the silence outside was  so weird, used as I am now to the perpetual noise of India…even the weather, for once, was quiet.
The Police were running emergency buses, so maybe I would have made it without my impromptu airport stop, but who knows, in India its always best to err on the side of caution, and play/keep safe.
So I bid a tearful, tired, farewell to India as Sri Lankan Airways lifted off , watching the lush treetops and blue waters of Kerala recede. Fantastic staff managed to serve a much needed breakfast of cake, yoghurt and coffee in the 40 minute flight, which rejuvenated/reunited mind, body and spirit for Sri Lanka...

India reflections

So I’ve been here since Jan 6th, and yet it seems so much longer….’Incredible India’ is the catchphrase everyone quotes, from the strikes/marches which halt the buses, to the power outages, to the heat, and the spectacular sunsets…..
It’s certainly been an incredible experience, and with only a day or so to go before I leave for Sri Lanka, I still feel overwhelmed, there is so much to see, learn, experience and absorb. But it’s also incredibly hard, from the sheer number of people, the dirt, the smells, the constant battle to stay safe and well…oh I miss the luxury of running water, power, a bath, and clean anything/everything!
The whistle-stop tour of North India was fabulous, every day packed full of superb sensory overload. The week in Goa is a memory of sun, sand and rest, films under the stars, long walks along the sands, meals with friends.
Kerala, going solo, has been the hardest, but also the most authentic, I’ve experienced every aspect of Indian life, from the relative wealth and cosmopolitan Kochin, to the poverty of Alleppey town, and the wonderful calm, indescribable beauty of the backwaters. Varkala leaves a legacy of red cliffs, golden sands, great company, good food…and also the sight of beach pilgrimages/ceremonies, very moving.
Finally here in Kovolam I’ve found a gentle beach, again great friends, and fallen in love with the city, Thrivandrum, from the posh a/c malls where uniformed ladies want to sell silk saris, to the hectic bedlam of the bazaars, the splendour to the temple, the history of the palace, and the ‘city’ park of the zoo and art galleries.
Tomorrow is my final day here, yet it feels as if I have been here for ever!

Thrivandrum - Day 4

Monday.
Overnight 1am storm .. usual procedure as follows:
1. Massive Crash of thunder
2. Firecracker noise as coconuts fall from trees onto metal roofs.
3. Hailstorm of torrential rain
4. Earth shattering bang as power substation explodes, plunging place in darkness
5. Humans run outside to escape heat/get soaked
6. Animals, assorted, creep inside to escape rain.
Some time later…
7. Precarious power restored, rain stops, animals and humans bed down together for remainder to night, ready to clear up debris at dawn.
Simples…ssss.!!
So this morning I take the crowded bus to the city, to brave the morning crowds to purchase a new rucksack (my one has finally given in under the strain of the Indian public transport system), and found one for 500 rupees with a free lunchbox/flask.
Probably cheaper in the souks, but the heat drove me into a ‘store’, the procedure to purchase anything in India is so complicated, even I can’t be bothered to get a bargain.
I had a delightful breakfast of ghee dosa/poori at the main Indian Coffee House, housed in a tower where the benches line the spiral staircase and waiters in uniform run up and down…the system even here depends on who you know, not what, luckily I’d sat by a friendly young woman who ordered for me, so got mine (minus cutlery) on the local time scale, rather than the western one…that involves waiting for hours, and getting plates and a spoon, and I’m fine with my fingers when I’m gasping for sugar/hot coffee.
There is one more tiny beach here, just around the corner, so now I’ve recovered in my little room and escaped the lunchtime heat, I shall wander around to find it….unless my legs give way in which case I shall treat myself to a rickshaw…amazing how short distances seem so far in 40 degrees-at least that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it!!

Thrivandrum - Day 3

I am typing by torchlight, as the power is out-this time the regular evening 30 mins, but as its Sunday, its moved by half an hour, so at 8.30 its late-better early in the evening, gets it out of the way, and over the weeks I’ve been in India, I’m now so used to the power going out at scheduled, and unscheduled, times, power will be such a luxury! Even when it’s on, it’s usually unpredictable-unless one is staying in posh hotels with generators, so not me then…
This morning began with a longer than usual lack of power, so I set off a dawn to walk to the fishing village past the lighthouse, through village shacks and coconut groves, watching women fill brightly coloured jugs from the village tap, and cook breakfast inside the huts
The tiny shack enroute provided sweet Marsala chai down the hill and up again, much to the amusement of the local men.
Most tourists frequent the restaurants on the beachfront, but I’m relishing the chance to eat on the hoof for a change, as my friends have departed.
The locals invited me inside (with the flies and the smoke, seemed rude to refuse though) and insisted on plying me with fried goodies (15 rupees for two large teas, deep fried banana. Papaya and a doughnut, as opposed to about 200 rupees for toast and jam on the beach)
Having watched the fishermen mend their nets and pottered about the harbour front, I wanted to find the rock cave temple, the oldest in India, apparently, but despite asking the locals, no one knew where it was….I had to go back to Lighthouse Beach, and pick up a rickshaw, only to find, after a 30 minute and 250 rupee return ride, that I’d been in sight of it the first time, typical.
Despite the locked gate, the rickshaw driver, obviously concerned I wasn’t going to pay him, insisted I clamber over the metal fence, ignoring all the warning signs….and there it was, a fascinatingly eerie carved rock, in the middle of nowhere dating from the 18th century, according to legend, and now a protected monument.

(I expected to be shot at any minute as I shinned back over the fence-the temple in Thrivandrum is protected by armed guards, due to the gold/wealth inside, as is the palace….but the history gods protected me, although I had a narrow escape tripping over and nearly in to a very deep well!)
The heat is intense here; see pic of me looking exhausted standing by the path to my little room off the beach!! I’d stopped to chat to friends-everyone recognises everyone very quickly-including the hawkers, peddlers and stall holders, who have now stopped asking me to buy anything, eventually even they’ve given up!

This afternoon I took the rickshaw again to nearby Sanuda beach, my original choice of destination, until I decided to stay with the populace… It’s tiny, and the high surf has wiped out the sands, leaving sun beds balanced on a narrow walkway, and even the restaurants are closed due to the waves. I found one open for a wonderful cold orange lassi, drunk with a mouthful of salt as the crashing surf splashed over the rocks!
I walked through the coconut groves, past the swish Taj hotel and golf course, and into the local villages which line the seafront. The backwaters wash down to the coast here, kingfishers dart about amongst the trees, the lagoon on one side and the pounding surf on the other. Children rush up wanting pens and money (neither of which I had) and women sitting in the shade weaving coir for rope invite me to join them, although I refused as nothing in India comes free.
Back to the evening sunset, watched with the Sunday crowds at the lighthouse-see pic of me looking suitably exhausted-and a paper cup full of stall cooked veg and hot nuts for supper…the surf is so high here now there are flood defences going up along the sidewalk, which is reminiscent of Lewes! Storm clouds gather overhead-but as I finish this, the power is back on, at least for the moment!

I decided again a long day trip to the southernmost tip of India, and to spend my last couple of days absorbed in the teeming mass of seething crowds in the city rather than in an a/c taxi looking out of the window, despite the noise, smell, heat and dirt. At least, that’s the plan as I write this……

Thrivandrum - Day 2

Saturday-not poisoned yet!

Somewhat to my surprise, I am not ill! The heat is intense again, and the surf massive, the lifeguards have closed it for swimming, and there’s no room even for sun beds…

I went again off to the city, this time discovering the maze of bazaars and markets to the rear of East Fort, the central bus stop, and also the discount supermarket….

It’s a weird system, you buy, pay, and then have your items checked off one by one and packed again…

I treated myself to a rickshaw the 4 kms to the zoo, not because I’m a fan of them, in fact the opposite, but having seen Life of Pi in Goa, I wanted to see where it was based.

Despite the primitive caged conditions, the colourful gardens were swarming with children and families, and I had fun…see pic of me assuming position in the hippo enclosure…feel like one after so much fried food.

The city is great fun, I’ve found the Indian Coffee House-or at least one of them, and had the usual hot coffee served by waiters in full regalia, and so many chai I’ve lost count-at one shack I was given poor and fried bananas gratis by an elderly gentleman who insisted I must eat, bless him.

Off for a walk in the breeze before the evening sunset, and probably another storm, from the feel of the humidity, oh joy, no power again.

Thrivandrum - day 1

Freak storms:
Thursday night, an incredible storm hit the coast, wiping out the power even in the city, flooding the restaurants (and my balcony), with incredible winds, so loud it was impossible to sleep.
Sadly, two fishermen at least downed in the freak weather. Having watched them line the skyline twinkling each evening, and seeing them set off in droves in tiny boats from the harbour as the sun sets, it’s really upsetting.
The weather continues to be changeable-the Hindu times has made much of it, not least as it another problem for the declining tourist trade, which is dismal this year, apparently. I’ve spoken to a number of ‘regular’ winter-ers, who say Kerala has declined, become more poverty stricken/dirty, and who don’t intend to return.
The Hindu times (in English) is available in many cafes, and I’ve read a fair amount about the economic problems here, the state ‘elections’  (its run on communist lines, so its people standing, not parties, as I understand it) is being fiercely fought, the streets are full of banners, loudspeakers and campaigning groups.
The main area of contention, like England, is public transport-the trains are ‘too late, too crowded, under funded’…and yet state money is being poured into an infrastructure when the daily schedule is not working….sounds familiar to me!
I’m fascinated by the city, and its great now to have a chance to see Indian culture-Varkala’s beach stop was fab, but being absorbed into the life of the people is more my thing than sand and sea, however tiring, fraught and manic.
The bus journey from here to the city is a 30 minute bone shaker past temples, villages, shacks, and the odd modern hotel/supermarket/jewellers and hospitals…along the new ‘by pass’ (all of 3 minutes worth) and then traffic jams, narrow roads, potholes…..the bus stopped all the time to let off schoolchildren going to the government schools which line the route, and they love to chat!
I went first to explore, and get my bearings, before spending a final day on the beach front with the lovely James and Julie from Canada, who have been wonderful companions, we’ve had intellectual conversations from Phillip Pullman, state education across the world, politics and the pope….great fun to have academic debates, I miss them.
Off this morning on the bus to see the famous Sri Ananthapapadmantbba Swampy Temple, see pic of me standing in front of it…..the huge 16th century temple complex is the heart of the city.

The place swarmed with colourful devotees, and whilst obviously not allowed in, a wander around the outside –takes ages-were spectacular, looming white carvings and murals.
I tempted fate by having an ice cream with ice (see pic)…a cashew nut syrup based breakfast, and also the local mixed fruit drink, which turned out to be made with water, so this may be my last blog for a while if I’ve finally poisoned myself!!!

Then to the Palace Museum , where a very funny guide gave us a potted history of the massive complex, in English (and wanted a large tip, we all did a runner as it was compulsory to have him, and as usual foreigners pay three times as much)…
The pic is of me outside pretending to be royal….no photos allowed inside, obviously, which is a shame as it is full of fantastic heritage, and exquisite wood carvings. It was built by a well known King, poet and musician, who died in his thirties, and the family then deserted it as it was bad ‘karma’.,…although apparently the current ‘King’ (no power, only title now) lives somewhere around –he’s 91, most of the vast complex is deserted…a sea of wooden buildings.
I did discover though that the descendants to the throne are always the nephews, as the land belongs to the maternal line……feminist India after all!  And on coming out I was caught up in yet another march, but this time brightly coloured  schoolgirls campaigning for education, a long snake of feminist women weaving between the rickshaws and crowds..
This afternoon I treated myself to my first ever Indian full body massage. That was weird…stripped naked and covered in oils, slapped and pummelled from toe to head….and then washed down with sandalwood powder which well and truly cleaned my skin!
An extravagant treat by Indian standards, 800rupees for 70 minutes, but as that’s around £10 I reckoned it was good value!!
This evening, energised by my massage, I strode off through the darkening skies to see the festival at the mosque beyond the lighthouse. The loudspeakers carry sound across the entire village, on every lamppost, and colourful stalls lined the narrow alleys….I was given samples of numerous foods, all fried, one so sweet it dripped fat and sugar. It’s delicious, but my salad craving is growing, and the odd one in the tourist restaurant is a few tomatoes and cucumber, and costs a fortune. So supper is a 10 rupee deep fried pastry and 5 rupee halva and cashew nut bar.......!

Kovalam - Day 2

After asking around last night, I found a small room near the beach (the paths in the dark are very dodgy, walking back last night through the village was authentic but scary, as the men cut down coconuts around me for the family supper and the wildlife bit my feet to pieces…..I have fed the mossies here well and truly!
So this morning I left my smoke filled room, waved goodbye to the family (sweet but totally unintelligible) and moved to a small little place with a balcony over a shop.
It’s the first time I’ve braved a true ‘room’ rather than a guesthouse, but the chap who runs it lives nearby and the shopkeepers seem friendly –the woman who was here yesterday gave them a glowing review, and she was also my age and English, so I’m taking her word for it-she left me a kind note in the room, with a hand made bracelet, bless her.
I’m sitting in an internet café, run, also as usual, by Tibetans, post lunch-the portions here are huge, but they do ‘doggie bags’!! My Canadian friends told me to ask for a parcel, and sure enough, the rest is put into foil container….what a find.
Though I prefer the spicy egg pastries for 10 rupees from the stalls, personally….the days here really do revolve around food……
I’m planning to base myself here for my last week, and visit the city etc…..time here is an odd concept, it either stands still or it disappears, so whatever I decide today may have no bearing on tomorrow…………………watch this space!

Kovalam - Day 1

And so……off yet again on the bus, this time the ‘modern’ a/c type, rare to find! But going from varkala at 9 am (in theory-it came at 9.40….) and marginally more comfy, although the a/c plus windows=same heat as no a/c and no windows!
The public strikes as usual brought the road to standstill much of the way, so 2 and a half hours later, double the expected time, we crawl in Tivandrum bus station.
Instead of the peace of Varkala beach, I found myself in a mad manic mayhem of stalls, peddlers, beggars, buses, animals, ….
Luckily, I spotted a british couple grabbing a rickshaw to Kovolam, who agreed to share the cost-14 kms in a rickshaw with three people and luggage took almost as long as the bus….
The room my guest house host Tina in Varkala has recommended is tiny, and in a family house set amongst palm groves and a labyrinth of paths away from Lighthouse beach.
The room is next to the family’s lounge/kitchen, and very noisy, dogs and children bound up as I open the door, and there is smoke everywhere from the village shacks burning rubbish for fires and cooking.
But the beach is lovely, people are friendly, and I had a great supper with a Canadian couple, teachers, from Toronto, where we passed several hours discussing intellectual authors and the state of education!

Contrasts

Varkala is the usual Indian blend of sharp contrasts….its an important pilgrimage site, and watching the holy ceremonies at paranasha beach yesterday is bizarre when the beach sands merge along into tourist hotspots, bikinis and cliff top restaurants.
Meanwhile the locals camp under the cliff by ‘their’ beach, washing in the sea and the stream descending from the cliff, which apparently washes away sins and cleanses the soul.
Today my two young friends left, and so I had my morning chai with Martin and Susan, from Alleppey, before hopping on the bus to the town to buy more moisture cream (half the price of the tourist shops here on the beach), fruit and some yummy savoury spinach pastries for lunch (10 rupees each)….all the food here seems to come fried or bathed in sugar/spices, not sure how I will get used to English food, but……..I do crave a salad!!!
One more day of walking –running even-along the sands, paddling in the surf, and watching the sunset, and then tomorrow I shall move on to Kovolam…Tina at my guest house here has recommended a friend’s place there which seems better value and better placed than those I researched in England, so I’ll see…..I’m having, of necessity, to go with my instincts, as nothing here is as it seemed from the comfort of home.
Last night I watched a free Indian musical on the beach, an Indian version of amateur dramatics, very over the top and loud, and then the fire dancers practising on the sands-I shall miss the sense of freedom –and, for this country, almost ease- of Varkala….tis indeed a spectacular site…a mecca for tourists as  much as pilgrims.

Varkala (contd)

I have been running along the golden sands-yes, running! After weeks of fabulous Indian food everywhere, of every possible kind, my legs feel and look like elephant limbs.
Too much travelling and too little exercise-India broadens the mind but its also broadened the body!!
I’m off on a hunt for oranges…I’ve already today had an enormous breakfast, ,only… a pineapple pancake for lunch, and an enormous Fruit smoothie with cardonmmon/nuts and chocolate-plus the usual chai, which here is always made with milk, and sugar!!  
The sunsets here are so gorgeous, I genuinely feel as if I’m on holiday, though as soon as you leave the beach/cliff top, the town is as ‘hard’ as ever….the temple itself is worth the visit, up hundreds of steps and always crowded, with the usual main inner sanctum and then other ‘chapels’ around for alternative devotees….
Coming on the bus from Alleppey, I sat next to a young man with good English, who asked me my religion as we passed diverse fantastic temples, but trying to explain Anglican religious to an Indian turned out to be impossible, though an interesting conversation..
My room here is tiny, well decorated, two steps from the beach and quiet, but the wildlife have a habit of coming in through the bathroom vent….last night there was a green swamp like creature spread eagled across the wall. Alas, I only saw in when in the shower, and shot out wrapped in a towel. Luckily a kind elderly gentlemen also staying there chased it back out with the brush…but ever since then I’ve been using the mosquito net!
The birds are beautiful, the dogs friendly, there are puppies at the guest house I’m staying at, only a day old, very cute, the monkeys and spiders bar for the course, and geckos and cockroaches seem like furniture now, but…………….I’m not too keen on the giant green thing!!!

Varkala cont

As it’s a weekend the Indians pour into Varkala and stay at the far end of the beach where local holy men gather set up their sand stalls and take offerings…..
For a small sum, at the stall of your choice, one can be blessed, accompanied by chants, incense and drums, and you then take your offering of leaves full of bananas, flowers, and sweets, and walk into the sea, throwing it in behind you.
Despite not being Hindu, here anything is possible for a price, and the holy men seemed very happy to bless me and Debbie!!

Varkala is so relaxing after the heat and intensity of both Kochi and Alleppey.
I had not realised just how tired I was, but the humidity in Kochi was oppressive, as was the constant lack of power there
Even the art cafes and heritage sites, fascinating though they were, and the breeze with the ferry trips and in the evening walking the ‘promenade’, I spent my entire time literally dripping.
Alleppey too was humid, this time accompanied by horrendous storms, rainfall like sheets of glass, and constant thunder and lightening.
Much as I loved seeing the backwaters, and I shall remember my days on the waters as absolutely perfect, sitting on boats isn’t easy on the body, and no Indian bed comes with a soft mattress.
By the time I’d arrived here post three hours on an Indian pubic bus, I was exhausted.
Now, after a few days of walking, swimming (well kind of, so far each time the surf has defeated me, knocking me into the water-confident swimmers go beyond it, me I just get soaked and crawl back to the sand!!)…and meeting friends for lunch and supper, I feel so much better.
With Hannah, Debbie and I tried the cliff top restaurants, enjoying palak paneer, Kashmiri something or other-potato, nuts and fruit, very weird, with breads and juices.
But last night Debbie and I wandered along to the gaggle of very local tiny shacks by the temple gates, and has a superb supper of dosa and tomato curry with water for the princely sum of 50 rupees each, half the cost of the cliff top.
The local places have no menu, you have to eat just what is on offer, and there is no cutlery-I am now a dab hand at mixing, pulling and dextrously using my right hand only to eat and entire meal!
Yesterday I was aware that, as usual, we were the subject of curious staring by the locals, but I am so used to that I ignored it-then, to our surprise, as we finished our meal and got up to wash our hands in the communal basin, the elder men smiled and clapped….normally men don’t smile, so we were very pleased that they genuinely seemed to appreciate our ability to ‘be‘Indian.
Debbie is moving on today, and Hannah left yesterday, but I plan to have another day of being solo, just walking and relaxing….I hear mixed reviews about Kovolam, but who knows, I’ve learnt to expect the unexpected…..

Varkala - Day 2

A superb South Indian breakfast of wheat maize rolls, which I mix with banana, honey and warm milk-Indian porridge, essentially, but fabulous, and an enormous pot of tea (though tea here is always milky or black-impossible to get a British tasting one, I’ve forgotten what pg tips tastes like )

And off for a wonderful walk along the sands, before retiring to The Juice Shack to send updates to one and all. I’m at a place called Fusion Beach Resort near the Helipad, North Cliff, Varkala, …it’s just like the google pictures –red cliffs and wonderful beaches.

Varkala - Day 1

I am finally getting my confidence travelling…rather than pay a small fortune for a taxi, I clambered into a rickshaw this morning and headed to the bus station.
Hauled my luggage up into the ancient bone shaker public bus (commonly known as the ‘pubic’ express) and rattled the 3 hours into Varkala.
For 100 rupees, as opposed to about 2,500…….!
The lack of windows (Indian a/c) at least meant it was relatively cool, and I had a good view of assorted temples, towns, massive power stations, rivers, backwaters, you name it, I saw it.
And on arrival, I took the rickshaw to my pre-booked hotel, decided it was too posh, and too pricey, and got the driver to take me to the beach, where I found a tiny, but delightful room, for 600 rupees, in a family run guest house just a minute from the steps down the cliff to the beach.
Met up with my friend Debbie (Geman) from Alleppey to stroll along the amazing sands/surf (and recover the sensation in my limbs) The breeze is great after the intense heat inland and at Kochi, and I swam in the surf as the sun set.
On the beach I met another girl from Aleeppy (Hannah, the US student from my first ferry ride) and together we went out for a wonderful supper at a beachfront restaurant under the stars.
.

Allepey - last day

my last day in alleppey, and thunderstorms from daybreak onwards...the light is hazy, dark clouds threaten, and lightening flickers across the sky.
my last trip around the backwaters, this time by the very utilitarian public ferry (turns out sunday's was the weekend special)....the barge sits low in the water, the locals, huuman, animal and machinery/transport/jugs/fruit, you name it, and I , chug along, watching village life in its everyday more work like form.
this boat runs along the more industrial banks, where clay bricks are piled high ready for water transport, school children clamber on and off, families pile in with heated lunches to drop off at the next stop....
I truly feel as if I have seen every aspect of the backwaters, and am ready to move on...
though I ate a final supper at a recommended local shack, a fantastic veg curry with rotis, with Michelle, for 70 rupees, and will miss the food here.
Tonight the storm broke, torrential rain knocked out the power, and everything else...for  three hours we gathered under the stone verandah at the hotel, before finally it abated, a shaky low power resumed, and we could crawl into bed -alas, despite the rain, the heat is still as intense as ever....its like trying to sleep in the bath.

Alleppey - Day 4

Day 4, and another mode of transport, another aspect of backwater life.
Another single traveller, Michelle, and I teamed up to book a ‘village’ tour by canoe, a six hour trip which was worth every penny of the pricey 700 rupee price tag.
Lull, our guide, (exhausted from his first dawn 6 hour shift) rowed us out at noon from alongside the lake, and within minutes we were drifting along tiny narrow passage ways, past banks just wide enough for a tiny shack before descending into rice fields.
An hour later, we stopped at one such shack, where the family ‘offered’ us chai –though in fairness it was only the usual 10 rupees-the long wait due to the women literally milking the cow for us! The animals are tethered along the narrow bank, chickens, cows, goats, and friendly kites who sat low in the trees and surveyed us whilst we drank the delicious, and certainly fresh, tea.
On we drifted, watching kingfishers, stopping to drink coconut milk, and chatting about England (and our bunions-middle aged English women abroad!) until we stopped to walk across the banks to islands even further afield, away from the narrow canal, divided by clay walls built high above the paddy fields.
One family kindly invited us to sit, use the washroom and drink more chai…without any payment-the elder women love having their photos taken, and women want their babies photographed everywhere.
The sun set through the palm trees as we glided back into Alleppey, and despite being forgotten by the taxi supposed to collect us and having to flag down a passing rickshaw in the dark, it was the most perfect day.

Alleppy - continued

And so…yet another wonderful day, full of experiences….Alleppey as a town is a dump, literally, but within ten minutes by boat the backwaters embrace me, with cool breezes, stunning rice paddies, shore villages lined with locals fishing, washing, chatting, canoes draining the silt (taking it ashore for fodder for the animals as well as keeping the canals clear)..Kingfishers dart among the reeds, flowers of every colour line the banks….
I wandered early into the Indian coffee house for my ‘usual’ breakfast-tis amazing how within 2 days in every town a schedule/routine appears…and got chatting to a French Canadian couple, about my age….within half an hour we’d been persuaded into a 4 hour boat trip for 500 rupees each.

So off we went, sitting under a bamboo canopy, past the crowded rice boats and ferries leaving the jetties and into the backwaters. At first we covered similar ‘paths’ to yesterday’s public boat, but soon we were under the narrow bridge and into the smaller canals, drifting along watching the backwater life.
It is as beautiful as a postcard, just as I imagined before I left England, and certainly has not disappointed, lush, diverse greens, paddy fields, full of surprises-banks lined with more ducks then I’ve seen gathered together in England, Hindu temples, village convent schools… (Far more Hindu here, still many Christians, and apparently less Muslims, though the mosques wake me up every morning at dawn so there must be plenty of them).

We stopped in a tiny village to buy water and the inevitable crisps (curry flavour), and a local kindly offered to allow Gabrielle and I to use his washroom. The house was another surprise, spotless, tiled throughout, just a hall with three rooms’ off-in one the tiny baby was sleeping under the fan, in another the grandmother slept too…and a splendid western bathroom! The owners were very proud of their house…apparently he manages a gym in Saudi Arabia via online business, so has money by Kerala standards.
The couple swam in the lake, though not for me…the snakes are notorious, and I’m A) not that brave and B) didn’t have a cossie….
Returned reluctantly to a late lunch at the usual place (see above),before returning for a cold shower, and a long walk along the beach as the sun was setting….
India is a magical place…yet even today, as I stared at the reddening sky and the stars above the palm trees, I had to jump over birds feasting on the bones of decaying animals…I’m learning to accept that for every high there is always a low, but the heights as well as the depths as phenomenal.

 

Alleppey

DAY 1

The day from hell-the worst one so far for me personally.
The taxi ride from Kochi, which should have been a luxury, turned into a nightmare, as public strikes (by Hindus moved from land into another neighbourhood, apparently) caused massive traffic jams.
The home stay I’d booked from England was a building site, up a tiny noisy smelly alley, and I was showed to a bamboo hut on the rooftop with no shower, and only an Indian loo. Not surprised that I refused, the owners then asked a rickshaw to take me to an alternative.
This was worse, about 20 minutes away, a ramshackle collection of huts where the ‘bathroom’ was a hole in the ground (some had a toilet bowl perched on top) open to the sky, no shower at all, where all the inhabitants were Indian families with many children…
And so…having taken the phone number of where my friends Michael and Susan were staying, I persuaded the driver to take me there!! The whole ‘run around’ gave the driver an excuse to rip me off exorbitantly (although only £2 English money, so I’m trying not to care too much).
This heritage home is more, 1000 rupees as opposed to 400, but well worth it. Still not much in the way of mod cons, but it has a clean bathroom, secure locks/doors, and a shady courtyard on a quiet street.
I collapsed next to a surprised but bless them not too horrified couple and decided I hated Alleppey!!
But later on I walked the 10 minutes to the beach-this is half way between town and the beach, spent a pleasant hour recuperating, found the chain of Indian Coffee Houses recommended by the lonely planet. Shacks still, but with waiters in full uniform, and very cheap prices for delicious food.
And then, despite the heat, the mossies (I have been bitten to pieces!!) I had the best night sleep for days.

DAY 2

Alleppey isn’t all bad underneath its ghastly township exterior. The public jetty men directed me to a ferry which, for 25 rupees, this morning took me an hour upriver, and, after a brief village stop for water/banana/biscuits, an hour back…..passing very very expensive houseboat trips enroute.
Alas, no camera (as always),  but a chance to sit and gaze at the villages which line the banks, watching locals bath /trade/ talk-as the boat stopped frequently to pick up/drop off-past rice fields, fantastic birds, skirting the lake staring across its vast expanse of water.
Everyone shared food and chatted as best we could –and there was even a clean English loo onboard.
Our arrival back in town was delayed by catching the tree branch and going aground, much to the amusement of those of the banks!
An American student I’d befriended onboard, who'd been working on a project with widows in rural Tamil Nadu, and I went for lunch (at the town branch of the aforementioned Indian coffee house) where I had my first masala dosa –a south Indian speciality, with fresh lemon drink, a superb meal for all of 40 rupees.
Post cold shower, I decided to climb the lighthouse to sit in the breeze and stare over the treetops of lush Kerala backwaters, before wandering with the Sunday throng to see the sunset. The beach here isn’t nearly as polluted as Kochi, and whilst the surf is too strong for me, the breeze is wonderful, and the sunset superb, as good as those in Goa.

Kochi - Reflections….Reactions!

Finally discovered that the Indian Biennale, the art festival which is such a major deal here and yet, to my eyes, looks like western contemporary art from a decade ago, does have a cutting edge.
Aspinwall house, the main venue, set in a massive disused spice warehouse by the beach, had stunning, moving, thought provoking and just fun exhibitions.
So I spent a happy hour before the sunset promenade absorbed in poetry and paintings, making odd sounds from spices (complex weights which descended into sounds and lights when spices were thrown onto them), and sitting on a wooden swing under a banyan tree teaching Indian children how to work it.
Their mother was so grateful not to have to push anymore, she insisted on buying me hot nuts and ‘gooseberries’ (very sour) as we left, and even wanted to treat me to ice cream, bless her.
I had a massive slice of the renowned cheesecake from The Teapot earlier, which had more than lived up to its reputation, so more food was overkill as it was though,
So many people here are very kind, and love having English people, and yet so many simply want to make money, in whatever way they can, from the beggars (at least what you see is what you get) to the tuc tucs who go the wrong way, to the stalls who charge double  or even more and then use ‘old’ currency as change (yes, I’ve been given money I can’t use, luckily not too much yet, but I’m learning the hard way never to let my guard down)
Kochi has been interesting, but, on reflection, rather a let down. Parts of the town are great, the art is an added bonus, the crowded streets and ferries of the ‘suburbs’ like North India in miniature….but the constant power shortages, the intense heat, the dirt  (especially the ‘sea’ which is filthy and smells disgusting, industrial waste from the massive rigs at the mainland and pollution/rubbish etc.
I expected Kerala to be lush and modern after North India. Instead, whilst different, it is still incredibly hard, this time more mossies, less power, worse heat-impossible to sleep at night- still, every experience is an experience, I guess, and I have as many fond memories of my arrival in Kerala (at present) as bad ones.

Kochi

‘Omg’……KOCHI day 1
Translated as, I really don’t know where to start! Talk about a day of ups and downs.
Downer 1: The ‘taxi’ kindly provided by the Dropadi inn was the proverbial family member, in what was clearly not a taxi.
 Not least as I saw him changing (several times) into a clean shirt, and the car was full of debris from the family weekend in the car, hastily cleared away when I appeared.
In fairness, we got to the airport, though god knows how, his driving verged from very slow to manic….about half way, he flagged down another family member and asked me to change cars-at which point I worked out I’d be charged twice, and told him very clearly no, in colloquial English.
He then laughed, shook my hand, and carried on, but then when  we finally arrived, he demanded a tip. This also provoked a very very rude response, by then I’d taken the precaution of getting my luggage out first so to do a swift leg-it to the terminal.
Downer 2: domestic terminal in Goa resembles a holding cell in the asylum.
Two hours later, in the stifling heat and crowds (too many for the tiny hall), the plane was obviously delayed…at which point I lost the plot, and was only saved by a kind US ex-marine who spent ages telling me about his service in Afghanistan, bless him-told me I reminded him of his mother, which I’m not sure was a complement.
Upper 1: plane arrived-which is more than most of them did! And went off again very quickly, with a kind hostess assuring me, and a few others, they would ‘hold’ the Kochi flight. And Jet Airways performed their usual miracle of serving sandwiches, water, juice and cake, free, within the 45 minute flight.
Upper 2: Kochi flight was delayed anyway!! So my momentary ‘I can’t do this, I’m too old, too scared, it’s too much’ episode passed….the Indian chap next to me told me never to worry about what might not happen….my mind knows this, alas, my emotions run away with me anyway.
Upper 3: Kochi flight also Jet Airways, also more food…full marks!!
Upper 4: Managed to make an Indian ATM work, luggage arrived, transfer awaited…
Downer 3: 2 hours later…….in the dark, with a driver who spoke no English, I was convinced I’d been kidnapped, and had the third panic attack of the day!!
Upper 5: I hadn’t, it turns out the homestay is a long way away from the terminal….and not where I thought it was at all and a genuinely lovely family house...
Sheeba greeted me with hugs and kisses, fresh fruit, bananas in honey (I’ve had a lot of food today but it seemed rude to refuse), and showed me a clean, delightful bedroom with a new bathroom attached.
The rooftop breakfast awaits tomorrow, though there is free tea up there all day, and its gorgeous here, obviously a family home, but with 20 or so guests-mainly young, from those I’ve meet just sitting on the rooftop to recover.
Alas, no air conditioning, in fact, no windows really…The heat here is so intense, and so humid, that many of the houses, this one included, have simply netted the space where glass would normally go, to allow as much air as possible.
Its still 30 degrees as I type at 11pm, so not going to be as comfortable as it looks, in terms of sleeping…there is also no hot water, I guess on the grounds that its too hot, but it makes washing hard. The hot water from the tank is 'fairly’ safe, but cold water is lethal, and keeping mouth shut when showering in a single showerhead next to the loo (all Indian bathrooms are simply designed to drain away, eventually!) is going to be a nightmare.
The noise of birds, dogs etc is deafening, though no traffic or city noise, I guess I’m in a rural ‘bit’ of Fort Kochin, but will explore tomorrow……..
There is a TV, so am watching BBC for a taste of home before going to sleep to recover!
Or at least I was ….the power went out again……………….
DAY 2
Green Woods home stay is just that, green woods…the lovely owners Sheeba and her husband have created a green oasis in the middle of the city. The garden is lush, full of birds, and along the back runs a stream where ducks, swans, etc drift along.

As I suspected last night, light streams through the thin curtains, and with no glass, sounds drift up throughout the night, from birds (the worst!) to dogs, to children getting off to school at 7am….
It was a weird experience drawing the curtains to see what looks like an English garden, but it certainly doesn’t sound or feel like one.
Alas, power is a major problem in Kerala, and despite ‘set’ advertised times of outage, it tends to be more off than hot, so even the ceiling fan isn’t much help…the room is simply an oven, despite its western decoration.
Breakfast began with plentiful coffee, and then a home cooked Keralan meal, of rather solid pancakes, massive slabs of ‘wet’ bread, very chewy and not a bit like Hovis, boiled eggs, honey, bananas, pineapple and a weird rice based dish which I like, albeit mixed with honey….I really do have sugar in absolutely everything nowadays, it’s weird, my taste buds are functioning on Indian flavours.
The humidity is odd, and horrid, after the very dry heat of Goa…I seem to be in every possible climate, from snow in Delhi, to desert heat, and now a very clammy feeling…..everyone sweats profusely all the time, so I’ve no choice but to join them, ‘the wet look’ would be ok if it really was ‘cool’.  I now realise it was well worth paying for the a/c in Goa.
The hammock on the rooftop beckoned, but eventually I managed to find a map, get some advice from the helpful hosts, and set off to explore….
The Chinese fishing nets are spectacular, (I’m a dab hand at refusing to join in-costs a fortune in India), and just watching men haul the massive nets up and down with pulleys is fascinating.

The beach front overlooking the mainland/industry of Errakulem looked bizarre after the endless sands of Goa, but the town itself here, despite the power outages, looks very modern compared to anywhere I’ve been so far. Like most of India, this is an illusion….the wide roads  are cracked, full of holes –providing much labour –there is rubbish everywhere, the main difference being that instead of cows roaming wild, its goats here, as this is primarily Catholic-for non veggies, a delight!
Everyone ends up on the rooftop at lunchtime for a collective siesta-its very sociable here, many are regular visitors and full of advice.
Post siesta I wandered the narrow streets admiring tiny chapels and enormous basilicas, and the synagogues in jew town (its name, not my description). Frequently getting lost, people were endlessly helpful, and the children delightful, waving and smiling. There are a number of orphanages and homes here and by sunset the nuns were walking their charges, spotlessly uniformed, along the central beach front, treating them to ice cream and toys.
There are also, of course, beggars at every turn, disabled, or elderly, it disturbs me that I no longer take any notice of them.
There are many art galleries here, and tomorrow I shall explore more, and take the ferry over to the islands, but for tonight, I am simply worn out-the heat takes its toll-and even Sheeba’s kind insistence I join them for dinner was too much for me…..
Kerala is so different yet again from the state before, I’m continually bombarded with new sights, senses and having to reorientate, food, religion, customs, its exhausting.
DAY 3
Found the right route to town today, guided by a English couple from Manchester who treated me to the chain and ‘waddi’-a very bizarre savoury doughnut-en route.
The shacks are safer than the cafes., and cost less than 10p for about anything you want.
I had my by now very hairy eyebrows threaded very efficiently for 20 rupees (100=about 85p) so despite the red bruise left behind, the shape and price were good, so can’t complain.
The streets are fun, but the heat is immense, so I took the ferry to Vypen Island (2 rupees) and wandered in the shade watching the less touristy Chinese fishing nets in action. The ferries are an experience, it turns out its worth paying an extra half rupee to go on the passenger only one, as the motorbikes, rickshaws etc all pile on the other one, and then rush off taking any pedestrian in their path with them.
The evening stroll watching the sunset was fun, as was wondering the lanes which come alive at night. The small section of Bethlehem, where this is, is full of families chatting, trading (the rag and bone men and mobile carts sell everything, and houses become ‘shops’ in the evening…bartering is in order, apparently, but I haven’t got that sort of currency.
Alas, no power, and no power for hours in the evening- eventually I tracked down the (very lazy) manager, who called the electricity man, and we were back in 5 minites-Sheeba was furious when she returned….the trouble with India is its so inefficient.
DAY 4
The power is off again, and this time not local, the entire city is ‘out’…no one knows why, but its turning out to be a nightmare, and certainly tainting my experience of what is, in many ways, a gorgeous town. The flowers are all out in glorious Technicolor, smelling pleasant enough to almost knock out the drains, but the heat………….and with no sea to swim in, there is nowhere to escape.
I wandered out this morning (post breakfast, which is getting sparser by the day, the manager here is really lazy, and spoiling the hospitality of Sheeba and Ashley,  and for once had to take rickshaws everywhere, it’s too hot to walk even before 10am.
The ferry ride to Ennakulem, the mainland, was at least breezy, but also very choppy, and at 20 minutes, rather added to the general heat induced queasiness.
The mainland town is the usual contrast of looming skyscrapers and bazaars/markets. The sparkling new Food Mall was obviously a draw for the wealthy; the class divide was even more obvious.
The trip over passes through oil rigs, power stations, and enormous cargo containers: a few weeks ago one ran down a fishing boat, so the locals told me, and it’s easy to see how. The lunchtime run back to Kochi meant the boat was heaving, literally, and very low in the murky waters…
The queasiness turned out to be rather more than the heat-last night I was so tired I finally forgot and ran the tap over my toothbrush…..serves me right for letting my guard down in India.
Enforced rest in rooftop hammock!

 
Luckily it didn’t last long (so far!) and by mid afternoon I ventured out, convinced by a lurking rickshaw driver that it was too hot too walk-there are too many drivers, so for 20 rupees he looked desperate enough for me to take pity on him (and me).
A recuperative fruit juice in the renowned Kashi art café helped-it had a generator, so 6 of us shared both a table and their delicious chocolate cake/pies!! I’ve no idea of their names, but we spent a pleasant hour comparing notes, 3 Americans, 2 Germans, and me, assorted age range from 18-70.
By 5ish the heat finally abated slightly, so I walked the local streets of Mattacherry, past stalls/canals (full of rubbish) darkened shacks, three walls with a curtain for a door, and into Jew town-this time the tourist section, with spice markets/heritage shops, galleries etc.
By then, I was lost!
And having taken three rickshaws today, braved the local buses. Very efficient, very friendly and a very cheap way of having a guided tour of the city!
Locals pointed me onto one, where the driver told me to stand by him, and not pay, as he would show me the right bus when it went past –as I was going the wrong way, doh.
And, bless him, he did-I hopped off one, ran across the road, got on another, and ended up exactly where I intended, the bus terminal in Fort Kochi. It may have taken half an hour or so, but for 6 rupees, and a refreshing breeze (no windows!) it was fun.
And as I type, the power is on, fingers crossed!!
DAY 5, my last day in Kochi.
There is a breeze today, and the power shortages seem brief, rather than all day, and amazingly my stomach felt well enough to enjoy the grand breakfast-when Sheeba cooks, and the house is now full of guests again, we get a feast, banana fritters, pancakes, chapattis and chickpeas (bit too spicy for me first thing), eggs, Indian bread (ok if toasted properly) fruit….unfortunately when the manager and his wife do it, its been the bare minimum…
It may simply be a cultural difference-Sheeba and her husband is very westernised, and welcoming, whilst the staff is obviously locals.
Wandered –it’s hard to walk fast in the heat-to the Dutch Palace, only to find that and the synagogue shut as its Friday, but walking the tiny streets of Mattacherry is probably more fun. I finally brought a straw folding hat for 75ruppers, though suspect it may only last the day.
Gave in the a desperate rickshaw driver for a 30rupee ride back for siesta, but this time got the hard sell, taken all round the city to ‘do a favour, see this shop, see this building’, finally losing my temper I simply got out when I saw a street I recognised near the home stay, handed him 30 rupees and walked off. He followed me hooting for a few minutes, and then gave up, fortunately.