India: the Final Chapter

Varkala, India (map)

In this blog: a relaxing end to my time in India

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Varkala beach

The tasty last bite. You know, that little habit of making sure the last forkful of your meal is a nice one to remember? A friend recently introduced me to the idea of doing this to countries as well, so that the last few days give you a favourable memory of your time there. So at Varkala - my final stop in India, I got my fork out and did exactly that.

The best accomodation in ages

The starting point of this mouthful of pleasure, was to go to a nice place - Varkala, a coastal resort about a hundred miles from the most southerly point of the country. I arrived to find a string of well kept hotels and restaurants, lining a crumbling red clifftop above a nice stretch of sand. It has a touch of class above most of what you'll find in Goa and other Indian resorts, being slightly less commercialised and noisy, and lacking the package holiday makers and hippies. Next in my metaphorical mouth came the hotel - a smart place on the cliffs above the beach with a grass lawn outside, marble floors, a comfy bed, balcony, bath, hot water and a sea view - most of which sounds like fairly normal things but have been mostly absent throughout my travels in India. Finally, I spent a bit more on food and drink than normal, dropped anything that might be considered cultural, and just relaxed for a few days. A perfect final bite.

And because of all this, I've not really got a lot to say about my time there for once. I managed to fill most of my time on the balcony, beach or hotel restaurant. I did a bit of reading, swimming in the sea, interneting, or music listening, and caught up on some phone calls. I sorted a few chores, including washing even my rucksack and shoes, which hadn't had much love for a while. I did some planning ahead and looking back, and spent a day catching up on the blogs, including spending a bit of time reflecting on the four-and-a-half months I'd had in the country - as you might expect there was a lot to write, so more to follow soon.

All the local hotels and restaurants' in Varkala seemed to be run and jointly owned by Nepalese families for some reason, so for once the Indians were generally sidelined - an interesting sight. Being the end of season - Christmas and new year peak time - things were pretty quiet generally, and the mostly-female shopkeepers desperate for business. As persistent and irritating as this could be, it actually worked to my favour as you could strike some pretty good deals on local crafts. And after not buying a lot throughout India, I reluctantly did exactly that one afternoon, knowing I might appreciate it one day.

Varkala beach

I can't say I really met many other travellers for once though - a mixture of it being quiet and me being a bit lazy. But I did have a chat with an African-American couple, who are living and teaching in an international school in India for a couple of years and told some interesting stories, then another day to an English/American couple who had just turned up. I had to laugh when they told me about the train journey they'd just taken - their plane arrived at Mumbai, and they took a night train south to Varkala which was due to arrive at 11am. On the train and nearing what they thought was the end of the journey, they checked with staff that their stop was coming up, to be told it was actually 11am the following day, and therefore they actually had another 24 hours more on the train! Imagine that feeling.

Keeping it cool

Over the three days I did manage to go for a couple of short but pleasant walks along the coast, where I met a few interesting locals. On one walk, I passed a young Indian lying in the shade by his motorbike, who lazily demanded some water from my bottle, unsurprisingly I shouted back 'get your own'. On another, I relaxed watching fisherman prepare their small boat at a quiet beach nearby, and one of them purposefully came and said 'hello, smoking?' to try and scab a cigarette. The last day, another fisherman asked me to help drag his boat in, before telling me he'd caught very little, had a wife and kids to feed, and therefore could I give him money please. He didn't make much of my not-too-out-there suggestion to go fishing again instead. Even at a resort as westernised as Varkala, you can't escape India entirely.

A Dramatic Final Scene

The three days flew by in a blur of both busyness and relaxation, and was the perfect closing chapter to the Indian tale that I'd hoped for. But before I knew it, that was it - the end of both my time in Varkala and indeed, India as a whole. And a dramatic ending it was. With darkness descended, twenty minutes to go before I had to leave I sat in the hotel's outdoor restaurant for a drink. A few raindrops started to fall. A few minutes it started coming down faster, and next thing, there was thunder, lightening and very heavy rain,mall with little warning. I hailed a rickshaw and headed for the train station. Huge puddles had already formed, and rain sprayed in from both sides, getting us wet. The palm trees along the road were constantly silhouetted by flashes of lightning, adding to the effect even more.

At the train station, the power had gone out and I sat on the gloomy platform waiting for the as-usual delayed train to arrive. It departed almost as soon as it arrived, which meant without realising it, I was able to finally achieve one of my Indian dreams - just like in the movies I had to run alongside and jump onto the train as it moved away from the platform. Perfect timing. I looked out the window and smiled, pondering whether the thunderstorm was the Hindu gods saying 'thanks for coming, we held the rain back as long as we could', or more like 'we've had enough of you now, get out'. Whichever, it was as dramatic an end as you'd expect from weird and wonderful India.

An End To This Madness!

Trivandrum (map) and Kanyakamuri (map), India 

In this blog: your typical city, some martial arts training, an elephant parade, and the most southerly point of India.

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Every place in India that I've visited has been distinct or unique in some way, but the city of Trivandrum, the state capital of Kerala, is the first that I can describe as 'just another city' - one without much distinction in any way. But since I was passing through I thought it was worth stopping for a day, and it also made a good hub for a trip to the most southerly point of India - Kanyakamuri, which turned out to be quite a bizarre day, even by Indian standards.

Royal Treasure

Room service is something that doesn't normally come into the vocabulary of your average backpacker trying to keep to a budget. But when you find, as I did one morning that you can have a complete breakfast delivered to your room for just £0.75 (75 rupees), how can you possibly say no? I felt like a king, a king with a paper crown.

Sri Padmanabhaswamy
temple

I set off for a city walk, stopping briefly outside Sri Padmanabhaswamy temple (a mouthful or what?), made famous when ten years or so ago a trawl of treasure - diamonds, gold, gems - was found in a hidden room, valued at between US$40-200 billion! Can you imagine being the person who found that? Next door was Puttan Malika Palace which I had a quick look around, where the standout item was definitely a solid crystal throne - is it possible to get more bling?

Museum in the park

I walked a couple of miles to the other end of town, impressed that an Indian city actually had pavements you could use for once, without resorting to climbing over piles of rubble, risking falling down a hole, or tripping over a stray cable. Passing an Indian Rail workshop I stopped for a few minutes to watch over a wall whilst men and women overhauled parts of trains, went past some interesting British Raj-era buildings that still look just as grand, relaxed for a while in a nice park, and had a brief gander in the pretty shabby Natural History Museum. The day was rounded off nicely at an old-fashioned looking cinema I chanced upon near my hotel, which happened to have a movie in English - 'Noah'. With a 20p bag of popcorn in hand and a pair of 3D glasses perched on nose, life couldn't get more exciting!

Loincloths and Sticks

Kalarippayat Training

Most martial arts seem to originate from Japan of China, but India has one of it's own, called - 'kalarippayat'. I read that the training session was open to the public, so the following morning I got up nice and early to see what it was all about. I walked into the building, finding a sunken pit where about twenty men and boys were training and grabbed a seat on the terrace above, along with a couple of other curious Westerners. It was a typically Indian experience - everyone wore a white loincloth which revealed way too much, and there was a small shrine in one corner that was occasionally paid reference to. The main part of training seemed to consist of walking along doing palm-to-the-floor lunges, reaching for the sky with both hands, or doing high kicks in the manner of Monty Python's 'Ministry of Silly Walks' sketch. I jest, but it was genuinely very impressive to watch, especially later in the session when some of them men did stick fighting exercises against each other with high speed and precision.

Lands End - Madness Magnet

Like the South Pole which has magnetic attraction for metal, the southernmost point of India - Kanyakamuri - seemed to have a magnetic attraction for madness - the day trip there was one of the most unpredictable and bizarre I've had for some time. So it was a quite fitting then that it should also be the symbolic end to my journey in India.

After the early morning martial arts - a mildly different start to the day, I took the train south for a day trip. A friendly man walked through the carriage with a broken arm and talked for a few minutes, then a little after a man with no legs rolled through, sat on a small wheeled cart begging for money. An hour later a severely disfigured man also begging for money looked my way. This doesn't usually happen on trains, the streets yes, but not trains. Reaching the town of Kanyakamuri, I walked a mile or so to what I thought was the southernmost point, and cresting a small hill what was my first sight? A man having a poo on the beach. Wrong place obviously.

Monuments on the rocks

It was swelteringly hot and humid, but at least the coastal winds now provided a little relief. I walked a mile or so later along the filthy shore towards the town, passing through a fishing village which was partly destroyed by the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami. Kids say hello, and a woman with a baby offered biscuits to me, without a word or a smile. Back on track again I took a ferry with hundreds of Indian tourists across to a couple of big rocks a little way offshore, where there stood a granite statue of a god, and a grand  memorial to someone who once visited to meditate; a very Indian justification for such a structure. Traditional Indian music played through speakers throughout, and made the situation feel more like a movie than real life. It does feel that way in India sometimes.

Ceremony at the most southerly
point in India

Back on the mainland, I wandered to the most southerly point of India - I was finally there after months with it in my sights, sad in some ways, but a satisfying feeling nonetheless. A big ceremony of some sort was taking place - a man was being blessed and given a garland, and a huge line of identically dressed women were being presented with a flower arrangement to carry on their head. Fully clothed Indians were jumping around and playing in the waves below. A deaf female hawker with no teeth, a massive smile and an American bandana on her head started talking to me, for once not really trying to sell anything, but proudly showing me photos of her with other western tourists. A young Indian man asked if I'd be in a photo with him - not my first that day - and not wanting to be rude I reluctantly walked to the rocks below, only for a wave to crash in and soak my shoes. It was time to leave, and I headed back, grabbing a red banana on the way - red bananas I thought, whatever next?

Parade

The bizarre day went up another notch again when I spotted something on the street ahead. Was it really I thought? Yes, yes it really was - three elephants were walking along the street. It turned out the small ceremony I'd seen at the coast had now surprisingly turned into a huge carnival-like parade, with hundreds of people walking in line up the road. As well as the people I'd seen earlier, there were musicians, drummers, people in traditional dress, and the elephants - fully decorated and being ridden by traditionally dressed men. At the front of the parade were a pair of tractors which had a bamboo structure built on to them, and hanging from that were two men suspended by ropes, floating around like superman. I looked closer and my jaw dropped - they weren't just tied to the rope, but were suspended by fishing hooks that had been inserted into their skin! I'd never seen anything like it, I was amazed.

Hooked (note: look closely only if you dare)

The parade neared the end, and it was time for me to head back, so I headed to the train station. 'The last train was at four, you've missed it' the ticket lady said. I walked the mile or so to catch the bus instead, just getting there in time to catch it, and setting off heading north. About half an hour into the journey I looked ahead, to see that the bus was going to have to partly cut a corner to get past an oncoming bus which wasn't slowing. Suddenly BANG - one of the rear tyres blew out, presumably on a stray rock. Oh joy. Everyone piled off onto the verge, and an irritating young drunk guy started talking to me. Ten minutes later another passing bus stopped and we squeezed on. I then learnt that it wasn't going our way, so a little later we had to change bus at the next town. To add to this, the replacement bus we were awaiting was stuck in traffic - luckily it wasn't cold or wet - problems are only half as bad when the weather's good. After half an hour or so another bus showed up, and at 10pm I was finally back. Exhausted.

Martial arts, disabled beggars, defecating men, hawkers, unwanted photos, a surprise festival, a red banana, a missed train, and a bus breakdown - that's quite a day, even by Indian standards. And what a way to finish, because as far as Indian culture goes, that was it, the end of my trip - with a flight out of the country finally booked and just three days left, it was time to head to the beach.

'One photo please sir?'. OK then!

Street life

Pickled monkey in the Natural
History Museum

As far south as you can get in India 

Fun at the seaside

Parade

Ladies with their gifts

Backwaters

Alleppey, India (map)

In this blog: boating on the beautiful backwaters of Kerala, and a record breaking  bus journey.

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The backwaters

Just behind the coastline of the south westerly state of Kerala, lie a huge network of lakes, rivers and canals, known as the backwaters, much of it formed in the same way as the Netherlands by building dykes and reclaiming the land. It's a really unique and beautiful area to visit, a very different feel to the rest of India and one I enjoyed mostly by floating around on the local ferries.

Formula One

The journey to the backwaters started in Kumily, where I headed west onboard a 'Fast Passenger' bus as they call it. In India this term normally just indicates that it doesn't stop along the way, but in this case the driver took it very literally. The fastest bus journey I've ever been on began. Remember Ernie, the fastest milkman in the west? Well this was Rahul, the fastest driver in the east. 

Straight after leaving the bus station the horn was on non-stop, and 'Rahul' then overtaking cars and motorbikes before even leaving the town centre. We started descending from the hills towards the coast, the bus jerking violently from side to side as he went round the corners right on the limit, everyone being thrown from side to side. It was as-if we were on a private road which everyone else had no right to be on, a private race track. We caught and overtook pretty much every car and lorry in sight, sometimes in pretty dodgy places, and like the other passengers all I could do was hold on tight with both hands to literally stop myself falling out of the seat. No-one else seemed particularly phased by it, having seen it all before no doubt. There was brief respite as we stopped in a town to pick up more passengers, and seven different hawkers barged their way on board, shouting loudly, selling every snack you might need. Though the beautiful scenery had a calming effect, the journey was pretty nerve racking on the whole, and on reflection I really should have got off and waited an hour or two for the next bus - it was that bad. India has the world's most dangerous roads, a fact I write now safely at my last stop in the country, and though this was a bit of an exception I can clearly see why.

Backwaters Begin

Relieved to reach Kottayam safely, I went to the boat jetty only to find building work meant I'd actually have to catch it six miles away. With time a bit tight before the boat was due to depart, I hailed a rickshaw and we went off down all sorts of side streets and country lanes, thankfully at a sensible speed this time, arriving with a few minutes to spare. Another phew.

Local ferry journey on the backwaters

I caught the Kottayam to Alleppey local ferry, a well built but tatty wooden boat with a noisy engine, which putt-putted it's way down the narrow canal, lined both sides by palm trees. We passed fishermen on narrow boats, with long propshaft motors sticking out the back, guys crouched on the bank line fishing with lines tied to bamboo canes, and an empty toddy shop (local alcoholic drink from coconuts). More people boarded and departed at little concrete jetties along the way, at small villages comprising simple little shacks and houses, built on the narrow bank between the canal and the paddy fields behind. I spent some of the journey sat on the entrance step of the boat, one leg hanging out and it all felt very relaxing, quaint, authentic, fun, and free. Well it did until the conductor ushered me back in! After the cooler mountain air of the past few days it was back to being hot and humid, but a breeze constantly passed through and now in the late afternoon, it was an absolutely beautiful journey nonetheless. 

Reaching a much larger canal, perhaps a hundred metres across, we slowed to a stop and the driver killed the engine. All the men on board gathered round the engine - set at the centre of the boat and surrounded by a wooden rail - to see what was happening, whilst the few woman sat disinterested. It turned out there was a leak of some sort, so one of the staff promptly fixed it, sort of, by tying a strip of fabric and a piece of string around a part before we were back on our way again. 

At dusk we arrived in the coastal town of Alleppey, and relived to finally be there, I found a nice guesthouse and headed out for food. I bumped into the Italian girl I'd met a few days before, as well as a nice French couple on holiday and spent a pleasant couple of hours chatting away in the cafe, a nice way to finish the day. 

Backwater Village Life

The following day I headed out on the water again. Rather than go on an organised tourist tour on the backwaters around Alleppey or take one of the popular bamboo covered houseboats, I decided to follow the suggestion of taking local ferry boats to get a more authentic experience of what life was really like in the area. The plan was  simple - to follow a simple route between three villages that I'd read about, changing boats on the way. 

Rice barge - a little
overloaded perhaps?

In reality though, the timetables were quite different and things didn't run anywhere close to plan. I ended up only getting partway to the first village, scratched my head, went cross-country on a bus, waited by a road, took another bus, and walked a couple of miles through the countryside - all directed by a vague map and some help from the locals. I walked to a jetty to catch the next boat, and in the middle of nowhere nearby spotted a tiny cafe behind a small hospital, so stopped for a filling thali (rice and curry buffet lunch) for just 45p. This was definitely not tourist territory, and the three cheery ladies in there were pretty bemused by the presence of a foreigner, laughing between themselves and asking me questions in their basic English. 

Local kids who
showed up on the jetty

I headed on down a dirt track to a tiny jetty beside a paddy field, having been told I need to wait two or three hours for the next boat - easily passed, reading whilst sat in the warm shade of the river bank. I could see rice fields being harvested nearby, done in this case using two modern Claas rice harvesters, running on rubber tracks like an army tank due to the soft ground below. Local kids soon showed up to see what was going on, asking questions before finally getting bored and moving on. Eventually an hour before dark the boat turned up, eventually getting us back to Alleppey way later than planned at about 9pm. 

Wash spot

Considering it didn't go to plan at all, the day turned out to be quite an adventure and great fun regardless, getting to see lots of things on the way that I wouldn't have otherwise. The boat journeys themselves were fascinating, with people constantly getting on and off at the little jetties, and beautiful scenery similar to the day before. We passed loads of tiny inlets, rickety footbridges, and barges overloaded with rice being unloaded onto lorries. For the locals, the canals really are central to their lives, and everywhere you go, there's the strange sight of them using the waters to bathe fully clothed, to wash their dishes, and to wash their clothes - quite often all three at the same time! The water appeared dark green, and though whilst not obviously polluted, I'm sure it wasn't all that great. On the boat itself, I watched with amusement as the captain and throttleman (sat at the back) communicated to each other by ringing a bell a number of times (one ring to go, two to stop etc). It sounded like Sunday morning at a church.

Cruising from Alleppey to Kumily 

Still enjoying the beautiful backwater region, I took another boat fifty odd miles south towards my next destination, this time on the upper desk of a tourist boat. Whilst it wasn't quite as fun as the local ferries the day before, it was more comfortable and every bit as enjoyable. 

Chinese fishing nets

The scenery was similar to the previous days; beautiful with lots to see. I was amused at the sight of a duck tied to the bank by a rope, furiously trying to swim away, a woman washing her goat on the riverbank, and a man fishing using just a line wrapped around his toes. There were churches everywhere (Christianity is popular in Kerala state), small ferry boats being punted across the river full of locals, large modern fishing trawlers. Many young kids waved at the boat - one boy of about twelve even shamelessly managed to wee and wave at the same time! Halfway, the boat passed through a pair of lock gates, which took forever since in the heat of the sun, none of the locals in charge of it could be bothered with cranking the heavy handle to open it, arguing amongst each other for a while. 

The wildlife was excellent - we saw loads of eagles circling around at a couple of points, and I even saw the awesome sight of a a fish eagle diving down suddenly and whipping a fish out of the water. Later, passing an inlet from the sea, someone shouted when they saw a jellyfish in the water below the boat. Before we knew it we were passing thousands of them, all about eight inches in diameter and mostly clear, save the odd bright blue one. 

At dusk we finally reached the town of Kumily - the end to three fantastic days on the very unique and special area of the Kerala backwaters. The boats had been uncomfortable and I'd got completely lost at times, but I'd loved every minute of it - another India highlight.

Luxury tourist houseboats - there's thousands

Locals off fishing

Bamboo Safari

Kumily, India (map)

In this blog: a great bus ride, a bad cycle, and a walk in the park - safari park.

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Fighting monkeys

The answers rang off like an episode of Family Fortunes; with everyone answering with total conviction as if I was asking them the colour of the sky. There was no doubt in their voices, but total disparity between their answers. The question, a simple 'What time is the bus to a Kumily?':

Hotel manager: '2.20pm, but be there at 2'

Shopkeeper nearby: '2.20pm'

Rickshaw driver: '3.00pm'

Man waiting at bus stand: '3.20pm'

Another rickshaw driver: '3.30pm'

The bus driver himself: '3.45pm'

Total confusion as ever but fortunately waiting around for an hour or so wasn't a problem - you can only smile. To be fair, public transport in India generally isn't as bad as it may sound - it runs regularly and often leaves on time, despite the ever varying quality of buses, roads and driving. 

Leaving the tea town of Munnar, I took the local bus on the four hour journey south - the fare as ever, unimaginably cheap at just 87p (87 rupees). I sat next to a guy in his mid-twenties who couldn't speak English, but who upon seeing my camera whipped out his phone and proudly showed me grainy and blurry videos of landscapes that he'd filmed on his tiny phone, bless him. Later after a break a pleasant old guy, also with no English, offered me his seat by the window then some of his peanuts. The driver and conductor were also both very friendly and helpful guys, even saying hello out of the blue the next day when I passed them on the street. There's kindness on every journey in India. But the journey itself; well what can I say, except that it was one of the most beautiful I've ever been on. Winding for an hour or so through tea plantations in the mountains, with rocky summits above, then going along a high ridgeline where you could see over miles of rolling hills and forest, before dropping into valleys, passing through cardamon plantations and small villages. A lovely afternoon, made all the better by the  windowless buses they have in Kerala (except for the windscreen, that would be a bit suicidal). 

We arrived in the dark at Kumily, a small town on the edge of Periyar National Park. The town itself is nothing to write home about - for the most part a typically noisy, dirty and delapated Indian town, but the park itself is one of the biggest parks in the country and professionally run for once. After two other safaris elsewhere in India I thought I'd do the hatrick - following one in a jeep, and one on a bus, this time it was both on foot and floating about on a bamboo raft.

Ride to Nowhere

Kumily was said to be a nice area for a cycle, so the next day naturally I grasped the opportunity and hired a ride for the day, since it was too late to arrange any activities in the park that day. As with most bikes I've hired in India the first one was terrible, so much so that with the forks wobbling violently and brakes barely working, I took it back and got a refund before it killed me, finding something else mildly better nearby. Finding a map was equally difficult - nothing was sold, and the printer in the Internet cafe wasn't working, so I ended up taking a photo of the map on screen using my tablet, before eventually I was on the road.

Logging truck

I set off on an aimless cruise about, first reaching a pair of official looking gates, getting refused entry by the guard as it turned out to be a tribal settlement. I instead went down a dirt track to the side, eventually getting back on another road. The houses nor fences didn't seem the usual style and there were few cars or bikes around. I then had a suspicion I'd inadvertently gone into the settlement, but wasn't sure. I decided to keep going anyway, passing fairly simple concrete houses, fences made from woven branches, and some simple mud huts. After ten minutes or so I started passing people, getting more looks than usual before passing a building which clearly said 'tribal school' outside, confirming my thoughts. The people looked and dressed the same as any typical Indian, so I guess these had been re-homed from the national park voluntarily or otherwise, and adapted to modern life somewhat. I found my way out the other end  without any security dramas and continued on.

Normal when I cycle, an obvious loop presents itself but this time nothing seemed to flow. The turnings I needed to be able to make a loop didn't seem to exist, and after heading downhill a few miles I u-turned back to the start, before going up a steep hill a few miles, again finding no junctions and turning back the same way. The scenery was nice though, passing one spice garden after the next, a tea growing area, and a coffee plantation, before reaching a village in the hills where kids shouted and waved at me, with one group of young boys even trying to block the road to make me stop and talk. Despite being in the hills of the Western Ghat mountains where it's generally cooler, it was still darn hot so drained of energy, frustrated with the single-gear bike, and for once a bit bored, I headed back after a couple of hours and barely fifteen miles, instead going for a little stroll in the woods and reading a book instead. I'm not sure where anyone got the idea Kumily is good for cycling.

Periyar National Park

After a disappointing safari a couple of weeks before, I thought I'd have one last stab at seeing the wildlife of India. I set off on a nice dawn stroll, heading a couple of miles along the road into the national park towards the visitors centre, seeing just a small herd of wild Indian Bison on the way, in some open grassland. At the park centre our group met - an Indian couple, a lawyer from California, and a Korean girl; all nice people. Along with two guides and an armed guard in case of elephant attacks, we headed off into the forest. As dangerous as that sounds, the guard said he'd not had to fired a warning shot once in over ten years! For the first couple of hours the scenery changed immensely, going from evergreen forest, to teak plantation, to denser forest, to open grassland. Visitor numbers are tightly controlled in the park and in fact we were one of just a couple of groups that day, making it feel very natural. 

Malabar squirrel

The sound of crickets permeated the air throughout the day, but in one section they were overwhelmingly loud, to the point they almost hurt your ears; a football stadium of insects upset that we'd strayed onto their turf. The guides stopped and picked out various things along the way - termites decimating a branch, ants scrambling up a tree en-masse, a wild chicken rummaging in the undergrowth (they can fly properly you know), and niligiri langurs (monkeys) lazing in the trees. The guide held out his hand to us, indicating to stop, pointing high up in the trees to a Malabar squirrel - indigenous to the region and one of the worlds biggest, with a large bushy tail and a multi-coloured quilt of a coat. Quite a sight.

Rafting time

We stopped for the packed breakfast they'd issued (bread, bread, bread), before reaching the lake and starting the main part of the trip - bamboo rafting. The raft was fantastic - a home made beast made from huge pieces of bamboo tied together, with seats fashioned from smaller sections. The guides sat at the back doing most of the paddling, though we were handed a hand carved paddle each and encouraged to do our bit. The lake itself was built by the British in 1895 to supply water to towns in the neighbouring state of Tamil Nadu, and at this time of year the water level is pretty low, meaning you should easily be able to spot wild animals coming out of the forest to drink. Unfortunately we didn't. Despite being able to see miles of shoreline, all we managed to see was a couple of wildboar grazing. Oh well, nothing is guaranteed on a safari and that's half the excitement. All very relaxing though, slowly floating around in the sun.

We stopped for another hike in the forest. The guides pointed out a few trees, including the banyan - a parasite that climbs other trees, kills them and becomes the main tree itself. We saw huge climbers, the sort that Tarzan would swing on, some 8" or so in diameter, a curryleaf bush - a key part of Indian cooking, and a wild chilli bush - even spicier than the domestic chilli, as I found out after eating one. Tingly tongue would be an understatement. The guide scraped off some tree bark and held it to our noses - cinnamon it turned out, and picked a fruit from a bush which we tried - guava fruit. A little further on, excitingly a mongoose ran into site for a few seconds, but disappeared before we could really get a good glimpse. We returned to the shore where we left the boat, and the guys unfolded a big tarpaulin for us to lunch on. A snake wriggled it's way out, and headed towards the lake! It was only a small one, maybe an inch in diameter and a metre long, and was apparently a water snake, which would have climbed on board as we rafted. Reassuring! 

Indian elephant,and
sambar deer

Disappointingly we rafted back exactly the same way as before, but did manage to spot a white necked stork, egrets, some little cormorants, and a fish eagle - I write these names in ignorance, just reciting the guides' expert knowledge. Beautiful birds though. After another walk for an hour or so, we were back at the visitors centre. Despite being packed with noisy tourists, ironically we saw the most wildlife of all (secretly fed by staff for the benefit of tourists I wondered) - a pack of sambar deer, and a mother and baby wild elephant, grazing on the other side of the river - finally! Our group dispersed, and I started wandering back to the village, spotting some monkeys hanging out on a building site. I sat down and watched them for twenty minutes or so - lazing, fighting, hanging from trees, stealing crisps from passing children. Prime time entertainment. 

On the way back an Indian woman in her mid-twenties, walking along with her children, started talking to me. She was very friendly and chatty, and her husband and friends soon joined them - a group of sixteen of them on holiday together, having taken a thirty-eight hour train journey to get there! I got invited to have a tea with them, before finding the cafe was closed and saying goodbye. My point here is that it was the first time in over four months an Indian woman had initiated a proper conversation with me, after talking to hundreds of Indian men. It always appears to me to be be shyness, a lack of confidence, or domination by husbands. Or maybe I should start washing my clothes more often.

Niligiri langur (monkey)

Empty 'shells' of dead crickets

Raaaaaa! Bison skull

Our snake friend

Egrits and cormorants

South Indian 'thali' lunch - 45p for all this!

The Cost of India

For a Westerner, India is pretty cheap to travel around, particularly as the exchange rate is currently the best it's been in years. One day in Kochi it felt like I'd done nothing but spend, so I thought I'd tot it up. Even I was surprised, so I thought I'd share it so you can see just how far a few quid can stretch on a typical day in India.

Prices in pence sterling (but is exactly the same as rupees - 1p is 1 rupee currently).

8 - chai (cup of tea) 

45 - dosa (breakfast dish)

32 - idly (breakfast dish)

10 - chai (masala tea)

485 - hotel room

110 - lunch (beef and rice byriani in restaurant)

20 - sugarcane juice

20 - 1l bottle of water

4 - ferry ride to fort Cochi 

5 - Dutch palace entrance

40 - birthday card for my Gran!

1 - envelope

40 - postage stamps to UK

5 - postage stamps for letter to Bangalore, India 

30 - 2l bottle of water

35 - ice cream in a cafe

4 - ferry ride

40 - two hours in Internet cafe

200 - dinner (85 curry dish, 16 2x parota breads, 20 2x chapatti breads, 70 fruit salad and ice cream in restaurant)

30 - 2l bottle of water

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1,163 or

£11.63

Amazing eh?

Tea and Spice and All Things Nice

Munnar, India (map)

In this blog: hiking through tea and spice plantations in the mountains, and a day out on a bus.

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Munnar tea growing region

A nice cup of tea solves everything, I love the stuff. India is one of the leading tea producers, growing about a quarter of the worlds' crop, and a visit to a plantation has been on the cards for me since planning this trip. A week ago, I briefly visited the Wynard region where they grow it and had a taster of the plantations, but in the mountainous area of Munnar, I had a mug full.

My last day in Cochi had been a bit of a catch up day of writing, planning, getting my sleeping bag liner repaired at a tailors, and having my second haircut in India; fortunately much less disastrous than the first cut a few months back. Feeling a bit more up to date, the following day I headed up from the coast into the tea growing region of Munnar, 1,500m above sea level and a total relief from the heat and humidity of Kochi. The bus journey up into the hills was very enjoyable, especially since most of the buses in Kerela don't have side windows, which makes you feel like you're outside the whole time, the breeze blowing in. We passed mostly tree covered hill, with the odd town or waterfall as we gently rose into the mountains.

View on first day stroll

The bus entered the Munnar region, and the scenery was a striking sight straight away, absolutely beautiful. Tea comes from China originally, but in the 1870's some Scottish planters discovered it grows very well in the hills of South India and established tea estates, turning inaccessible forest into rolling hills of tea bushes. Munnar is one of the largest areas, and today much of the surrounding hills are covered in neatly groomed plants. By the time I got off the bus in the wrong part of town, walked a mile or two back, had lunch and found a guesthouse, the day was too far gone to do much with. I went for a stroll up a quiet road through a tea estate, seeing the plants up close and simple terraced workers cottages set nearby in the valley bottom, before reading my book on the hotel rooftop and chatting to some of the other travellers. Perfect.

Plantation and Spice walk

Early morning - just beautiful

I generally prefer to hike independently, but with a lack of decent maps in India it's often easier to go with a guided group, as I did in Munnar. Our group of six - two young English guys, a father and son from Austria, the guide, and myself - set off at 6.30am from the hotel and headed along the valley bottom. It was the perfect time of day for it, with mist rising from the rivers and the sun breaking through over the hill tops. We were led into one of the tea estates, and wove our way up the dirt tracks. The guide was very good, stopping every so often to give a bit of insight into both the local area and the world of tea, making sure we didn't forget by repeating himself at least two or three times. 

So hopefully of interest, a few facts from what I learnt: Tea leaves are grown on what looks like bushes, but are actually trees which are kept pruned to 3ft high, and are always grown at altitude, in warm areas. The trees are generally replaced every hundred years, though can live much longer, and the leaves are harvested all year round on a ten to fifteen day cycle. There is only one type of tea tree used, and the different types and qualities of teas that we buy, in fact are determined through the picking and processing afterwards. Green tea is made by steaming the leaves, black tea by drying with heat. The best tea comes from the larger pieces, the worst from the dust that's left over afterwards - literally known as dust tea, and common in India. The tea pickers are mostly female (men do the heavy work), and although they get housing, health care and pensions, earn just £2 (200 rupees) per day. Enough?!

English guys, Austrians and I

The walk up the hill was far from arduous, and by breakfast we were slightly disappointingly already at the highest point, which at 2,200m wasn't really that high compared to nearby hills. We ate and rested for an hour, and I chatted to the Austrians - the only father and son combo I'd ever come across backpacking together, and a pleasant and interesting pair of guys. Senior installs equipment for electric power stations around the world, junior manages a nightclub in Vienna, and they'd now spent a couple of months travelling India, starting off by cycling along the south west coast on some cheap bikes they bought in Kochi. 

Cardomen plants

We headed downhill, through grassland and forest before dropping into vast swathes of cardamon plantations, shielded by the sun under taller tree; very pleasant and peaceful to walk through. The plants grow a good ten feet tall but the seeds which contain the spice, the only useful bit, grow within small pods near the base. We spent the rest of the day cresting hills or descending, passing a huge range of exotic plants, stopping on the way to chew on the fruit or seeds, or to chat to the local growers via the guide translating. It was truly fascinating to see where all these things we consume at home actually come from, and best of all it wasn't some tourists special plantation, but real farmers growing it for cash or themselves. 

Local guy hacking
open a betul nut

Alvin (!) the guide had a diploma in agriculture, and was extremely knowledgable on all the plants, constantly picking stuff for us to try, or getting locals to hack things open for us with a machete. We saw grapefruit, mango, and papaya which all hang from the branches of trees. Jackfruit, gooseberry, banana, betel nut and cashew nuts trees. Bushes growing coffee, tapioca, nutmeg, chilli, turmeric, vanilla and cloves. Pineapple was an interesting one - it grows from a small plant low to the ground and is mostly red coloured before maturity. But my favourite of all was of course cocoa, which I didn't realise was grown in India - the cocoa beans grow within a larger fruit hanging from a bush, which you pick, crack open then dry the beans. Pretty bitter when fresh we discovered.

Finally, after about a ten mile walk we reached the end at a rural homestay, eating a simple but tasty lunch of mixed rice, beetroot, and daal, cooked by the housewife. And a very late 4.30pm lunch at that, thanks to all the stopping and talking we did. It may not have been a challenging hike this time, but it more than made up for it in what we saw along the way.

Bus tripping

I don't generally like the tourist bus tours in India, as they're always on an unnecessarily tight schedule and rarely give you any information, but sometimes it's the cheapest and easiest way to get around the local sights, as was the case in Munnar. Luckily there were a couple of young ladies to keep me company - a Scottish nurse, and an Italian van driver who were both good fun.

Lake en-route

Heading along the roads above Munnar town, there were considerably fewer houses and the scenery got even nicer - in places looking like a bit like Switzerland, what with the forested mountains and grass clearings. The tea estates in between meant it certainly wasn't though. We stopped for a stroll at a couple of dams and reservoirs, as well as a nice stretch of river unfortunately known for it's echo - meaning many Indian holiday makers annoyingly shouting over each others to test it out. Startlingly, I saw a herd of cows grazing real grass, and with numbered tags in their ear - a strange sight after all the skinny rubbish grazers I've seen. We reached Top Station, a small hamlet with a fantastic viewpoint that went for miles, bizarrely having to to sign our names and phone numbers to get into. More pointless Indian beaurocracy.

Tea leaves

Back in Munnar again we were taken to a tea museum run by the company that manages most of the local estates, which had a bit of information from the early colonial period. A very dry presentation then started by an old Indian guy, who decided not to tell us anything about how tea was made, but instead heavy scientific details about health benefits. He seemed to not worship any Hindu gods, but instead the god of tea - he was almost evangelical in his passion for the stuff. Finally free of him, the best part was the small working tea factory they had, where we could see all the machinery the leaves go though to be processed. After the plantation walks, it was the final piece of the tea puzzle and satisfied my curiosity just enough. 

It was thirsty work and we'd been teased by seeing tea all day, so the three of us really looked forward to a fresh brew afterwards. It was a tea factory, of course you could get a cuppa we thought. Except you couldn't - ice tea from a big machine was all they had. The ultimate missed opportunity?! 

Early morning walk up the valley

Tea picking ladies, weighing in their
catch - they're paid per kilo

Cardomen plantation

Pinapple plant and early fruit

Amazing landscape