Friday, October 4, 2019
They have Jesus in Kerala.
Christianity, Islam, and Hinduism simmer together in the region like mismatched spices in some yogurt dish. There's even a synagogue. And a bronze chicken.
For comparison, here are real chickens.
We began our long descent from the mountains at eight o'clock. Arun insisted that we be ready to go by seven, which we were. With eight milligrams of loperamide in my stomach, I was a rock, a clogged sink.
Arun didn't read into Vineet's regular requests to turn down the music, but I didn't mind. It was like a cooking show travel montage.
We stopped for breakfast in a homey outdoor cafe. I ordered the smallest thing on the menu.
I liked the place. Also, I found myself liking the people in Kerala generally. It was probably because they were not yelling at me to give them money. Or maybe they're better looking. The cashier girl at the airport KFC just would not stop smiling.
Have you ever wondered how to tell if a restaurant is classy? I've developed a diagnostic that you can use. If there is a sign in the bathroom forbidding vomiting in the sink, then the restaurant has at least two Michelin stars.
My pancake volcano caused no discomfort.
Car hopping from place to place to see the sights worked for Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur. In Kerala, however, it seemed excessive. Aside from sleeping at night, we spent by far the most of our time in the car going somewhere or the other. Six of us and the driver, hobbled into a four wheel drive barreling around mountains on partially paved, nearly lawless roads. You'd be hard-pressed to read a book or take a picture of something out the window. But with Bollywood blaring, it had its own charm.
The better way to do Kerala is slowly. Our hotel offered complimentary bicycles. There are interesting flowers and critters everywhere. It's quiet.
Things finally slowed down when we reached the backwaters of Alleppey.
There we boarded a big ol' houseboat just for us six and the three crew.
There was a helmsman,
a cook,
and one other crew member who I didn't see much of.
Here is a small diaspora of Australians. From left to right it's Shaun, Janice, and Kho Yin, who they call Kho.
When not wrestling crocodiles or boxing kangaroos, some Australians do yoga.
The houseboat cruises down the river, and everybody just hangs out. Later that evening we played charades on the upper deck.
Before dinner, we stopped at the shore of the river to take a walk and see the sunset across a rice field.
The cook prepared excellent food for us. It was "home style" Kerala cooking, rather than the restaurant buffet northern Indian food we had been inundated with until that point. He would occasionally bring out coconuts for us to drink from, or pineapple slices, and plenty of masala chai.
I think Janice took that photo.
While we were charading upstairs, a crew member discreetly turned on the air conditioners in each of our rooms, so that when we retired at ten o'clock, our beds were comfortably cool.
I woke up early, but not as early as the crows. Morning on the river is for the crows. I observed them from the upper deck until the Australians arose.
Without a beast in sight for wrestling, more yoga was sought as a substitute.
The rest of the morning was another leisurely cruise down the river, until we once again reached the shore and were picked up by our driver.
It's a couple hours' drive back to Kochi, where the airport is, but we had more time to kill, so on our last day in Kerala we did some more sightseeing. This included a very full museum of stuff including prehistoric cutting tools, nude portraits, bronze chickens, life-sized crucified Jesuses, and a pantheon of Hindu gods carved into an ornate wooden ceiling.
Then we went to a fishery where nets are lowered into the water on giant levers. After a couple of minutes, the lever is pulled upright again, and the resulting catch hangs in the net just above the water. Or, as was the case demonstrated to us, nothing ends up in the net just above the water. Fishing season is not until later in the year.
These are called Chinese fishing nets.
We then stopped by God's house to say hello.
No photography inside God's house. I recognized all but one of the depictions inside. There was of course our boy J-Unit, his mom, his baptism by John, etc., etc., but also there was this Hindu-looking guy on a horse. I didn't learn about him in school. Dude on a horse, in a church. He was depicted in both the smaller old chapel and in the cavernous new one.
Our last stop was a very fancy shopping mall. I had chicken fried rice and Vineet got some new kicks.
After the mall, Arun dropped us off at the airport so we could catch a direct flight back to Delhi. I cabbed with Asha and Vineet, since I would stay the night at a hotel near where they're staying, or so we thought. We accidentally booked the wrong hotel, and so made a couple of last minute re-bookings from the cab after midnight, which added to the flavor. The keeper at our first stop recommended we go across the street, where the air conditioning is working. After tipping our patient cab driver, I gratefully accepted a room with a working air conditioner, hot shower, and flushing toilet. Not sure exactly where I was.
The next morning, my pocket elephant alerted me to a possible source of water damage. Condensation from the vents of the air conditioner dripped onto the television and into the cable box. Using his trunk as a tiny siphon, the elephant carefully moved the puddle into a drinking glass, and then, bending forward like a beast of burden, pushed the glass with his head until it was positioned below the leak.
I showered and then went down to have the complimentary breakfast, which was fine. There was a man with his two kids, and then later two Indian business travelers came in speaking English.
The rest of the day I spent hanging out at Vineet's parents' place. I sat on their couch working on this blog, learned how to make tea the Ahuja way, and later met Asha's friend and former coworker Melissa, who would continue to travel around India after we left that night.
We got lunch with the Australians one last time, walked through a neighborhood market near Vineet's place, and later that night departed for the airport.
I woke up at around eight o'clock AM Delhi time, Friday, October 4th, and it is now six o'clock PM New York time, Saturday, October 5th. Don't be tempted by night flights, people.
That's it for my first India trip. I think I'll return someday, next time adjusting a few knobs: fewer tours, more people; less driving, more wandering; less airport, more nature.
