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Published: February 21st 2013
Notes from a Dug: Periyar & Half Way through Munnar Welcome to the Communist state of Kerala. A 48 hour nation-wide strike has been called and in this country of 1.2 billion people only the 2%!o(MISSING)f the population that live in Kerala will be paying any attention. However, there are implications for us. No public or private transportation will be allowed during this time. That means we will need to condense two days of our program into one. It also means we can only stay in our Periyar hotel for one night as we must be at our next location before the midnight witching hour when the strike begins. Hmm? Where will the three women and a Dug stay? We have been told we cannot check into our destination hotel one day early as it is fully booked. We cannot stay where we were originally booked because of the strike. Where, oh where, will the little sheep stay? Down to the wire but our tour operator finds an opening. It is at a hotel that bills itself as a luxury resort but our contact says it will not be of the standard to which we have become accustomed. This
highlights two points of concern:
1) Have we really become part of the uppity class that can afford to stay where the staff will wipe our glasses (please, I did say glasses), and
2) What, exactly, is this not really luxury class hotel all about?
But, we are still in Periyar. We'll reserve judgement until we reach the tea plantations of Munnar. Our day in Periyar begins with a 5:30 AM wake-up call. We have a 6:30 boat to catch that will take us on a wondrous tour of the birds, animals and plants that inhabit Lake Periyar. It's a dud. Wondrous becomes, "I wonder why we got up?" Our stuffed to the gunnels boat of 250 people got to catch glimpses of black dots that were birds and brown dots that were bison. Someone yelled out that he saw a lion in with the bison. A) If that's a lion, why are the bison still eating grass? B) Since when did a stone become a lion? People took pictures because it seemed obligatory. The on-board guide tried to keep us from turning mutinous by excitingly telling us that the black dots were either egrets, cormorants or
other other birds indigenous to Canada. Call it a dud. Call us tired and whiny.
On to the elephant ride and elephant timber pull and elephant bath. We, now four jaded curmudgeons, lifted our sorry asses once more into the Vinkie-wagon. He stops to pick up some young guy on a scooter who leads us down a few back alleys before reaching a beat-up "Elephant Farm" sign. Uh, oh, Paige our animal protector niece would not be happy about what might be beyond these gates. First stop, pet the elephants. Second stop, ride the elephants. Third stop, wash the elephants. Petting the elephants was neat. With perennial mid-day stubble, the Asian elephant feels like a 2,000 pound scrub brush. As we fed it some melon, though, we find it has a tongue as big and smooth as a watermelon and that it could swallow our arms whole, if it were interested.
On the second stop of riding the elephants, though, it did feel very cheesy. Kinda like being in the circus but it does play well for all us tourists.
However, the third stop of bathing the elephants was a real highlight. Not really sure what would
be involved and how involved we would be allowed to be, all our expectations were stupendously exceeded. We followed the handler into an area where a specially designed, two tub enclosure had been constructed. The elephant lay down in the first, huge, tub area. Its handler got in and started scrubbing the elephant with the muddy river water. He motioned for us to join him. Man, this is not North America. No litigious liability concerns here. Get right in. Sit right down. Baby, let your hair hang low. Rub a dub dub, four people in a tub. Soon all four of us were scrubbing, laughing and loving it. Next came the bath portion. What? I thought we were doing that already. No, what was meant was that we could all take turns sitting on the elephant's back and she would give us a bath. The Dug is up for it. The Terry will do it if the Deb will join in. The Janice begs off. She doesn't like getting her face wet or her hair wet or both at the same time or some crazy peccadillo like that.
Not knowing what he is in for, Doug mounts the massive
back of the pachyderm. Holding on to the rope around its neck, he waits. Sitting on its haunches, Indira, our elephant, sticks its trunk into the smaller tub of clean water, inhales 20 gallons, curls its trunk in Doug's direction and lets fly, in one burst onto the unsuspecting Doug, all the oomph it can muster. Good thing Doug still has a few reflexes left. His eyes close just in time and his throat shuts down before the deluge waterboards him.
Terry, on dry land, starts to hesitate. Egged on by all, she submits to the peer pressure and mounts for her turn with Indira, the Indian fire hose. She soon gets her three facials and, with much laughter, knows it will be something to write home about.
Debbie, meanwhile, has been waiting and planning her escape. She has seen what has happened and ain't in the slightest bit interested anymore. Prodding and manipulation won't work. Suddenly the name of Eli is invoked. There's nothing a good grandma won't do for her progeny.
Ely, this one's for you. Grandma Debbie gets on and thinks she knows how she can minimize what is about to happen. Leaning low and
hugging tight to the elephant's back, she becomes one with Indira. There are many reasons the elephant has been called a very smart animal. Indira has had many humans try the same trick. She has outwitted them all and Debbie is no exception. She aims her trunk in the precise trajectory that will have the most impact. Doug and Terry have only been hosed on their fronts, Debbie gets drenched to within a bubble of her life. All of us in the viewing area collapse on the ground with laughter. The pictures show some of the action but the video captures it aEliteElite, in a few years, when you look at these images, remember this christening of your grandma into the pantheon of
"live life with gusto". So, for sure, this was one of those trip highlights that will stick and be re-told for as long as we can keep dementia at bay.
The last stop was at a local spice farm. It was more like a back yard forest. In my eyes, the guide was an, "I'm too old for this crap", condescending and grumpy old fart. The three women said he was okay. For me, this indicates
I can be even more of a poop-head and still be thought of as "okay". I'll have to remember this whenever I think I'm wearing too thin. What I do find fascinating is all the information and potential remedies that are derived from plants and, in this Ayurvedic area of India, how the knowledge is disseminated. It seems to be all oral. No one can point me to a definitive text of knowledge. Point of interest - Deb went to the Ayurvedic doctor at our hotel for her swollen foot who gave her a dry mixture to be applied as a paste and prescribed a topical lotion she could pick up at any Ayurvedic shop. She applied the paste that night and, the next morning, the swelling was almost gone. And, this is before she could even get to Ayurvedic shop to get the lotion. So I went to see the doc the next day with my ankle and back complaints and will give her prescription a try.
Now, back to Periyar. We still have to get to Munnar before the witching hour. After the spice farm, we're back in the Vinkie-mobile for the four hour, 110 km climb
to the tea plantations of Munnar. Janice white-knuckles the armrests and wishes Terry would find the Gravol that is buried in the sedimentary layers of her luggage. But, it's not to be and Janice works hard to keep the breakfast in her tummy. It more U-turns and V-turns and near death experiences for the white-faced Canadians. Like a Houdini of the road, Vinkie somehow delivers his charges to the comfort of our stand-by luxury accommodation. It's okay. Luxury is a relative term. It's basic. It's clean. It has a flush toilet. We're not that spoiled, yet. Even with the splendour of the Leela (Goa) in the distant reaches of our minds, we can still remember from whence we came. The food, though, is right out of the can and into the microwave and the eating area is a windowless, dreary afterthought. We won't be sad to leave that behind.
We're now at our new home, Club Mahindra. Back to the flavours of India. The food at our new location is great. I'm loving all these new tastes and realizing how little I know about playing with my food. We look out over a spectacular setting of hilltop tea plantations
about 6500 feet above sea level. But that is interrupted by screaming coming from a room across from ours. Terry and Deb think there is an assault taking place. Knocking on the door, a woman opens it and says their luggage has been lost by the airlines and her husband, a very, very well respected gynaecologist is busy screaming, from the bottom of his very, very pudgy, balding frame how he will sue Air India for ruining his two day holiday and don't they know who he is, blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile, we know who he is. He's a pain in the uterus type of guy who better be damn good at what he does but who really should be kept away from people with vaginas. Terry and Deb heard Dr. Doofus start his yelling about noon. Doug saw him downstairs later at about 7 PM commandeering a hotel rep while still reaming out Air India on the hotel phone for loosing his luggage and, in particular, his cell phone charger because, don't you know, he is a very, very well respected gynaecologist whose patients absolutely must stay in touch with him on his two day holiday, one day of
which he has already lost screaming into a phone. The question remains, " What, really, is luxury?" Clean, basic and peaceful or clean, upscale and uppity? It's a fine line and the three women and a Dug walk it with grace, dignity and aplomb all the while stealing desserts from the buffet table and delivering food contraband to Vinkie, the miracle man behind the wheel of our screaming metal can on wheels.
P.S. Dr. Doofus and his wife were given a room that overlooked a rock face about ten feet from their window. The three women and a Dug were upgraded to rooms that overlooked the majestic hills, valleys and tea plantations of the area. Don't you know we're very, very well respected tourists from Canada?
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Gabrielle's gonna love this post
Oh my, I can't wait to get home tonight and show Gabrielle this post. She will love it. I am proud of you all for getting drenched. Doug, that line about "this was one of those trip highlights that will stick and be re-told for as long as we can keep dementia at bay." I laughed so hard I almost spit out my tea! What an amazing journey this has been. We miss you though!!!