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.
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.
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