Thekkady & Kumily

The boat ride from Allapuzha was stunning - green and violet lillies turned the river into a vast, undulating carpet, closing up behind us as we cut a swathe through. We transferred to an SUV and began a four hour jaunt up the mountains to Thekkady. We managed to avoid half a dozen head on collisions with increasingly larger vehicles, the Christ figurine and Crucifix on the dashboard perhaps explaining our drivers faith in his fellow road users to stop. Thekkady is about 1000m above sea level, around thin winding roads framed by vast precipices. Needless to say my sense of vertigo made an unwelcome appearance, but the views of the tea and spice plantations were amazing.

In the evening we visited a spice garden (jungle is perhaps more accurate), owned and run by a chap called Abraham. It's funny how when you're a kid you're told not to eat with your hands, or eat stuff off of trees - not so on this trip. We eat cinnamon, cloves, ginger, pepper, grapefruit and pineapple right off the tree. Abraham also grows coffee, bamboo (which grows at a foot a day !) and rubber trees here. Sue, one of our travelling companions, was in her element sampling the different varieties of chili. The evening meal consisted of a variety of curry and vegetable dishes, needless to say there was a wide variety of flavours and spices - served on a banana leaf and eaten with the right hand. I shall be importing this style of dining to the UK soon ...

In the morning we set of for Periyar national park (sadly Dan couldn't come with us - a dodgy stomach still wreaking havoc). The park is about 77km square, and we barely scratched the surface with a three hour trek. Taking a bamboo raft across the lake we soon came across a family of elephants ... who took an exception to our presence and chased us off. It is incredibly rare to see a tiger in the park (though there are a great many of them there), but there was evidence enough in the form of some giant scratches on the trees' bark.

Green Palms

We arrived at Green Palms in the Allapuzha district to begin our homestay with the Zaccariah family - run by two brothers, Thomas and Matthew. The area is made of reclaimed mud from the waters - 650 sq. miles over 33 islands, all built by hand. Chickens, goats and children run around the island in harmony, and everyone seems to know each other.

We shared our room with some huge spiders, lizards, frogs and mosquitos. Next door were two German girls, on a break from University - Esther and Sabina. Esther it seems has gone travelling with a teapot on the demands of her parents, this caused no end of amusement. The evening meal was a new dining experience - the usual way of eating is using the right hand and no cutlery (the left hand is never used at all - more on this later). In the evening we went for a walk, observing the local trees and vegetations - a stunning array of bananas, pineapples and coconuts. The sky was beginning to take on a menacing air as we climbed aboard the canoes, it was getting slightly late and it was obvious a storm was brewing (the rain and distant lightning was a bit of giveaway). The light was mesmerising as we pulled away, and the rain drops whilst heavy were quite warm. However, it soon turned very dark and cold, and somewhat like the introduction to an episode of '999' (I half expected Michael Buerk to jump out of a bush and start a commentary over the top). The lightning was constant, quite intimidating and I think most people in the canoes were starting to get very nervous. In the darkness we pulled over to a drinking hole where we had a look at the local drinks that are made here. It was incredibly basic with plastic barrels and fuel cans for seats, and walls of bare brick and spiders. However, the locals were perfectly friendly and I felt safer there than in some British pubs.

I think it was safe to say that most people were not looking forward to the boat ride back - it was pitch black by this point and thunder and lightning still raged all about. The announement that it would take about 40 minutes was greeted with silent groans.

It's funny how wrong you can be about something - it turned out to be the most enjoyable part of the trip up to that point. The rain had eased up and the boats joined together - Matthew and the boat drivers started a series of traditional chants and folk songs. These are apparantly dying out in the area as the young people of the area are more interested in moving away to the cities than learning the traditional ways and culture. I'm glad I'd seen the construction process earlier, as there was a lot of belting the boat with the oars going on. It was incredibly atmospheric in the darkness - enhanced by a power cut, meaning that the previously despised lightning became the only source of illumination.

Roosters kept me awake for most of the night (I had naively thought they only crowed in the morning), and the mosquito nets only had the effect of making us look like two bits of old cake lying in state. Seeing that I was not likely to sleep anyway, I got up at half five for another walk around the island and some morning chai - the muscle catchers and mud diggers were already hard at work.

Flying The Flag

Talk about a travellin' - she's the fastest train on the line. Nope, not the Orange Blossom Special so fondly described by Johnny Cash but the Netravati Express to Kochi. It made a welcome change to the horrors of the morning - we took the opportunity to dry some of the clothes by hanging them out the window - greeted by a tsunami of indifference from the locals. The scenery was pretty spectacular, the train clattered through the night and the 28 hour journey passed without incident (apart from an intense and emotional game of travel chess). I feel as if we're actually travelling now. We booked into the Hotel Grand in Kochi, and met with the other people on the Intrepid South India tour - there are four other people on the tour (two others having dropped out). Isaac is a 56 year old civil engineer from California (originally from Hong Kong), Jasmine is a gap year student, Sue is a veteran traveller to all continents and Pria is our Swedish tour guide. Given the trauma of the day before, the most sensible thing to do was to get an early night and get up the following day with a clear head. We didn't do that, we got roaring drunk instead.

The first day of the tour proper started with a mosey around Fort Kochi, amongst the spice bazaars and art museums and then to the banks where the fishermen make their catch. They use a traditional style of fishing using a construction that looks somewhat like a huge catapult - a good place to eat as the fish is as fresh as is possible. In the evening we went to a performance of Keralan theatre - a sight I will not soon forget. The preparation by the actors is as much a part of the proceedings as the actual performance. A narrator explained how the actors have 'alphabets' of hand shapes and facial expressions. Two main performers were assisted by a percussionist and narrator.

Afterwards we went for a meal, punctuated by extended power cuts between the courses. I think it may have been here that Dan picked up his stomach bug, as he has been quite ill for the last few days. In the morning we dumped a lot of our stuff at the hotel and caught the bus to Alleppey (hitting a dog on the way) and then a boat to the backwaters.

Chloroquine Dreams

Dan and I have found many ways to amuse ourselves over the past few days, mostly by talking nonsense and making rubbish puns. However, a new adventure presented itself on Wednesday - doing the laundry. Rather than spend a whole quid on getting it done properly, we thought we'd get some done before catching the train to Kochi. So, in the sink it all went with some washing powder followed by a quick rinse in the shower. Disaster struck when we discovered there wasn't enough space to hang everything on the piece of elasticated rope we'd strung up. Desperate situations call for desperate measures, but inspiration came and four pairs of pants were hung ceremoniously from the ceiling fan. Comedy ensued when this was accidentally switched on whilst looking for the light switch - cue the strains of Khachaturian's The Sabre Dance ...

We woke up to find them still dripping wet, a great disappointment that our engineering skills had failed. This was to set the tone for a day I will not soon forget (we had smugly thought that we'd avoided any sort of culture shock, and that actually travelling was pretty easy - that was about to be squeezed out of us ...)

We checked out of the hotel, dumping the shoes we wore over (hence the title), scoffing at the offer to call us a taxi to Talik Nagar station for 750 Rupees (ten quid). Why, we'd just get the train - we've been doing this all week and it's easy ! True, we'd have the bags with us but we'll splash out and go first class. Easy peasy !

The first problem is that there is no discernable difference between first and second class. I really mean that - none. The second is that by the time we'd got the packs on and down to Santa Cruz, it was rush hour. Doing anything with the bag on takes four times as long, but jumping onto crowded trains is right out. Somehow we forced our way on, to discover that it wasnt quite the right one, so we dived out at the next stop. The 'right' train arrived, but too far down the platform. We attempted to get in the second class carriage, but it was no easy feat, I mean real clawing your way in. In the scrum, Dan got pushed far into the carriage while I was still holding on to the outside as it pulled away (no doors on the carriage while it's this hot). My bag was already wedged in, so I had the awesome experience of holding on with one hand on the edge of an accelarating train. I thought I was going to fall out and under the train, but worse was to come when we pulled up at the next station and whole new stampede set in - this time there was no ambiguity, I was crushed right into the centre of the carriage and unable to move or do anything, having a hard time even breathing and at this point I really did not care if I got separated from my pack. I was trying to shout to Dan to see if he was on the train (I hadn't actually seen him), and thankfully he still was - much to the amusement of the locals who decided to take the piss and answer for him. I suppose it is quite risible - two English blokes freaking out over being on a train, but the sense of claustrophobia and panic was quite real. After a few aborted attempts we fell out at an unknown station (getting off is harder than getting on). Then we got a taxi.

We can look back on this now and laugh (seasoned with expletives).

Phileas Blog

India !

I can't quite believe we're here. After countless months planning we've started our year abroad - it is my fond hope that we will end up wearing bindis, playing the sitar and growing dreadlocks.

We left England on Sunday evening, after a slightly tearful farewell at Heathrow. The trip started well enough with me slicing the top of my finger - hence the first aid kit came out before even leaving the house. Dressing up 'smart' seemed to do the trick at Heathrow, as we got a small upgrade on our seats - this still prompted Dan to adopt a wide array of strange positions whilst trying to sleep - the only person I know who sleeps in the shape of a question mark with his head on the tray.

The drive from the airport to our hotel was a good introduction to Mumbai proper - straight into the boiling but languid chaos that is the city. The first thing that hits you is how hot it is - going from ice winds in England to a 35 degree heat. The second thing is the poverty - there are so many people here, it's almost pointless trying to describe it (population is officially 16 million - the same as the whole of Chile, our tour guide yesterday thinks it's closer to 30).

Our hotel is in a part of Mumbai called the Prabhat Colony, by western standards it's probably a bit basic, but by local standards it looks like luxury. The first night we were there we went for a walk during the day, and found a huge market place (which looks like a cross between Tottenham Court Road, Reading Festival and an Indiana Jones film). The area is pretty much residential, so this seems to be where everyone comes to buy their food etc. - beautiful looking fruits and veg sold right on the street. There are a few things that I would really like to see and hear whilst in India, and right away I saw one of them lumbering along the street - a huge elephant amongst the throngs of bicycles and auto-rikshaws (fearsome hornets of the road). It seemed totally indifferent to the seething madness around it.

Tuesday we got up early after a sleepless night (for some reason 2 o clock in the morning is the perfect time to re-arrange the furniture for an hour) and got the train from Santa Cruz station to downtown Mumbai. This was something else I was (naively) eager to experience - the train pulled up at the station, and immediately a huge crowd of people started pushing and shoving to get on even as the train left the platform. We looked a each other and dived in. The train was undoubtedly crowded, but not nearly as uncomfortable as it could have been. However, this was just before rush hour and given another hour I'm sure it would have been a different story.

If the traffic was hectic in Prabhat Colony, it was peanuts compared to the downtown area. Bicycles, people, cars and tuk-tuks all seem to go for the same spot at once, the lilting sounds of the Mumbai Car Horn Orchestra providing the soundtrack and egged on by the ubiquitous "Horn OK Please" written on the back of each vehicle. We were approached by a few different people offering tours of the city - we'd already decided this was something we wanted to do, so went with a bloke called Ramesh. It turned out to be the right choice as he was extremely knowledgeable and friendly, with a keen mind for remembering pertinant historical dates. He originally comes from the Colaba part of Mumbai, but owing to the cost of living and educating 3 children lives outside and commutes in at half five every morning - he's been at it about 10 years.
Starting off at Marine Drive, we went over to the Chalpatty Beach and on to some hanging gardens. Highlights of the tour were visiting the house where Gandhi lived (detailed the history of his life and showed the letters he wrote to various people including Hitler and Roosevelt) and the Jainist temple. Jainism is a religion and philosophy that espouses vegetarianism and non-violence, and has had a huge effect on Indian culture (though they comprise about 0.4% of the population). We also saw the site where the dhobi-wallahs beat clean the clothes of Mumbai's citizens, incredible the number of people working there.