The journey here included a four-hour bus ride on a bus with no windows (except for the wind shield). The ride was windy, it was dusty and it was jerky. I first whined a bit about this in my head, before I realized that the alternative would have been even worse: a bus with no air condition and windows in this heat. I would have reached Munnar looking and feeling like Kentucky-fried Chicken. Instead I put my sunglasses on and wrapped a shawl around my head. I was shooting for a glamorous Grace Kelly look, but believe I landed somewhere closer to a Muslim grandma. The radio was blasting Indian music, that whining kind where the voices sometimes sound like violins instead of human singing. For three hours and thirty minutes, the music was blasting and it was the same Indian music. All of a sudden I hear:
“Hello Barbie”!
“Hi Ken!”
“You wanna go for a ride?”
“Sure, Ken!”
I sat up in my seat. This can not be?! But oh yes, it certainly was! After three and a half hours of Indian folk music, all of a sudden Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” was blasted in the speakers. As soon as the song was over, the music switched back to the same Hindu-speaking, violin-squeeking music as before. Totally and utterly random. I shook my head and laughed hysterically inside. India never fails to surprise me.
“Come on Barbie, let’s go party!”
One morning we got up at 4 AM to attend a Theyyam ritual in a village somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Theyyam only exists in this part of Kerala and can only be performed by people from a certain caste. It is an ancient ritual where the dancers, fully decorated in body paint and elaborate costumes, takes on the spirit and the powers of the Gods by getting into a trance to the sound of drums. It was very tribal, similar to voodoo. While the dancers were possessed by the Gods, the villagers approached them to get their blessing. Selected children are trained from a very early age to learn the skills and the knowledge is passed down through generations verbally. For an outsider, it is nearly impossible to know when and where these rituals will be taking place, but Mr Kiriyan is “in the know”, so we were in good hands.
We were three outsiders who attended and despite the fact that this is a very sacred ritual we were warmly welcomed by the villagers. I was imagining how we would respond in a similar situation at home, if foreigners would walk in one of our sacred traditions (do we even have any?). I don’t believe we would show the same level of hospitality. Food for thought…
Hence, I jumped on the northbound train from Cochin to Kannur, a six-hour journey. After a 45 minute bumpy taxi ride on narrow dirt roads, I arrived at Costa Malabari, greeted by the owner Mr Kirian and directly seated at the lunch table with five other travelers from Switzerland, Germany and Australia. The food was delicious and home-cooked Keralan. There are only five, quite simple rooms and the house is situated on a cliff overlooking a beautiful, secluded beach. There is really nothing to do here, except for relaxing, spending time on the beach and enjoying the delicious food. Three times a day, I get a knock on my door accompanied with “the food is ready”. Wonderful!
Arriving by plane to Kerala, on the southwest coast of India. It is amazing how different the atmosphere is down here in the south, with lush greenery, palm trees and tropical humidity. Kerala is a communist state, with literacy rates and per capita income well above the national average. As an outsider, this relative wealth is highly visible, with significantly reduced levels of beggars, rubbish and cows. The train stations even have trash bins, with signs that say “use me”. Gone are the open sewers and the smell of dump. Gone are also the turbans, the elaborate mustaches, the bright colors of the saris and the spectacular forts. The saris are still around, but with more subtle colors and a larger proportion of women are wearing western clothes. The architecture appears more Mediterranean, due to the Portugese influence, and the pace of life is more relaxed and laid-back. The heat is also more pressing and shortly after stepping off the plane I was soaked in sweat.
I literally just passed through Fort Cochin, which is famous for its large Chinese fishing nets that are lining the north shore of the town. There is also a small fish market, where you can buy your fish and then have it cooked at any of the small ramshackle stalls nearby.
Udaipur, the most romantic city in India, or the Venice of the East as it is sometimes called, is a beautiful and peaceful town in the midst of Rajasthan. Both of the nicknames describes the place pretty well, with the white, seemingly floating Lake Palace and the magnificent City Palace providing a background setting that appears taken straight from a fairytale. The town has a faded, shabby chic charm, with numerous heritage hostels in old carved buildings. Udaipur’s claim to fame is that three of its palaces were used in the James Bond movie, Ocopussy, and many guesthouses play the movie on their rooftops on a nightly basis. It is definitely the most laid-back town that I have been to in India so far, and the lake has a very unique tranquil feel to it, almost meditative. I splurged a bit and checked into a lovely guesthouse with a marvelous lake-facing view. Each morning I got up early and watched the sun rise over the lake and observing local families doing their morning routines and laundry by the lakeside.
The first morning I met an older American lady who also was travelling alone. We decided to share a taxi to go sightseeing. While looking for a taxi we were approached by a very entertaining Indian fellow, Amu. He told us he was an Auyruveda massage therapist and wanted to make a quick diagnose of us in his little shop across the street, for free. We were primarily laughing at him and were on our way to decline, when Amu tilted his head and said “why not?!”. We were really in no rush, so we looked at each other, laughed and said “OK, why not!”. This phrase later became the theme of the day - a day that evolved into quite a little adventure. One of those adventures that seem to happen quite frequently in this country called India.
After the random, but surprisingly accurate Auyruvedic diagnose, Amu declared that he liked us and offered to be our personal tour guide for the day, just for fun. “Why not?!”. He proved to be an excellent guide and took us to see two other lakes, provided us with freshly squeezed sugar cane juice off of the side of the road (yum!), sing-along to Bollywood soundtracks in the car and a masala dosa lunch at a VERY local joint. It was day full of laughter as Amu proved to be completely nuts combined with a relentless positive attitude to life. His motto in life is:
“Life is like ice cream, you have to eat it before it melts!”
Driving back to town we saw some pretty interesting road signs:
“Silence – an affair with nature”. How brilliant!
You can’t go to Jaisalmer without embarking on a Camel trek in the desert. There are trek options ranging from a few hours up to a week. I opted to do a two-day trek with an overnight stay on the sand dunes. The guides cooked for us over the open fire and we slept under the stars. It was a cool experience. Riding a camel was certainly not the smoothest thing I have done.
I had been warned ahead of time that some people get nauseous from the bumpy ride so I had prepped ahead with motion-sickness pills. The novelty of being on a camel wore off after an hour or so, but was replaced with a meditative solitude listening to the singing of the camel drivers, taking in the desert and swaying my legs in the pace of the camel stride. However, two days on a camel did take its toll on the body; I was sore in all kinds of odd places and walked like Zeb Macahan.
