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Published: January 22nd 2013
How many people present the one fingered salute out the window as their plane departs the Indian tarmac, vowing never to set foot on those shores again? Then what percentage of that group end up doing the exact opposite, finding themselves retracing footsteps despite those earlier promises?
On our previous foray some eight years ago, barely 10 minutes into the streets of Mumbai and I already had a dot on the forehead, floral garlands around the neck and a bunch of "holy" men blessing me whilst demanding a payoff. I was ignorant that spiritual salvation came at a financial cost. A half hour later and following relentless harassment, all I wanted to do was kill Indians.
India was simultaneously the most annoying, frustrating, debilitating yet fascinating nation on this planet. Love it or hate it, back on home turf, it occupies the majority of anecdotal recounts.
Perhaps it's akin to child birth, (not that I profess any expertise in that field). There's a tendency to block the agony and focus on the positives. So here we were giving birth a second time, collecting backpacks from the baggage carousel at Trivandrum airport, gateway to Kerala.
The wet work
had been done last time in India. We were armed and ready with a battle plan for a nation with its own set of rules, rules that regularly defy all Western logic. Locked and loaded were all manner of tactics to waterproof ourselves from sticky fingers, manhandling, lecherous staring, cloak and dagger scams, stories behind stories, a race that is an old hand at harassment, a race that point blank refuses to join a queue. The gloves were off as we strode to immigration on the offensive.
What the? The customs and immigration lines were short, orderly, quick and efficient. A prepaid taxi rendered the pain of bargaining obsolete. The driver didn't regale us with crocodile teared tales of his 19 starving children in order to up the price. He also made a number of non-scheduled stops for us at non-functioning ATMs. He didn't attempt to inform us our guesthouse was full, closed or filthy and we should go to his brother's place instead. When we still didn't have any rupees to the pay the driver, the owner of our guesthouse lent us the amount and asked us to repay him when cashed up. His mantra; money isn't everything
and he meant it. This wasn't the India we had barricaded against.
To be honest, all the prior intel we'd received indicated that Kerala is one different kettle of curry to the rest of the country, the antithesis of all those pre-mentioned negatives. Tourist stalwarts to this corner of the globe told us Kerala plays host to a subculture that redefines languid. They're right.
Many travellers use Kerala as an Indian detox centre, an antidote after moving down from the north. On the other hand, we were doing it in reverse, perhaps lulling ourselves into a false sense of security and leaving ourselves in the line of fire and vulnerable later on. We preferred to view it as a weening process, a process that began with;
Beach and Backwaters.
Kerala's southern beaches were a surprise packet. We chose Varkala, basically because it was in the right direction from the airport, the compass aimed north for the next few weeks.
The beach at Varkala is backed by a daunting cliff. Atop that cliff sits a litany of tourist servicing establishments perilously clinging on for dear life. Well priced restaurants, accommodations, massage centres, and bric-a-brac outlets selling
The good guy
Kathakali actor.all the basic clothing essentials required for an overnight conversion into a hippy. This scene oversees one of the more eclectic stretches of sand imaginable.
At one end, Hindu devotees offer blessings in the oceans to their departed loved ones. Camera toting western tourists loiter amongst, not always dressed to show the requisite level of respect given the reverent ambience. At the opposite end, a touch of role swapping takes place as leering groups of Indian men saunter amongst the European fleshpots. Unfortunately for those guys, the local authorities are onto them which has created a new career opportunity;
The selection criteria for a lifeguard in Kerala must read something like:
- prepared to wear a 1970s sky blue safari suit.
- ability to blow a whistle long and loud.
- have an aversion to salt water. (ability to swim apparently not a prerequisite).
- must enjoy carrying a big stick and enjoy even more wielding it against fellow countrymen of the staring kind.
Watching these "lifeguards" carrying out their job description was more fun than wallowing in the sweet waters of the Arabian Sea.
The Backwaters, a series of lakes and
Varkala Beach
The European end. canals beginning a par 5 inland from the coast, are another quantum leap from frenetic mainstream India.
We lounged around in a canalside cottage for a pair of days before jumping aboard a Kerala "must do". Overnighting on a houseboat and crawling along at a snail's pace through palm fringed rice paddies and villages is a Valium edged sedative to the stressed out world beyond.
A "must do", however, means that everybody does do, so don't arrive expecting your houseboat to be the Lone Ranger on these waters. This is the biggest industry in town and houseboat logjams can be the norm in peak hour.
The boats themselves are designed to mimic traditional rice barges only fitted out with all the basic human habitation essentials. In contemporary Kerala there's a lot more rupee in toting tourists than rice.
Still, feet up, the sun melting behind the palms, the backwaters lapping the hull, a local brew in hand and spicy odours wafting out of the kitchen, this was a quintessential Kerala moment. The moment came, the moment went, but it's in the vault.
Living amongst theses settings is a possible explanation as to why the people
of Kerala are a relaxed bunch of Indians. The owner of our little resort in the Backwaters offered an alternative theory on why Keralans are so much more laid back than their compatriots. He put it down to the 100% literacy rate of the state, way above the national average.
The figure surprised me but I still fail to see the correlation. Does that mean some illiterate guy up in Agra thinks;
"Let's see. I can't read and write so I may as well invert the moral compass and annoy foreigners"?
Me thinketh not but it's a mute point anyway as regardless of the reason, Kerala has been a godsend. A week that provided a cushioned landing in the south and a re-calibration of some prefabricated stereotypes.
We have temporarily shouldered arms. BUT - don't rest on your laurels India, you're still on probation.
Yeatesy
The thought of returning to India gave me butterflies and the feeling that I was about to walk on a very high tight rope with no safety net below. Memories came flooding back of arriving in Mumbai and within 15 minutes finding Gary covered in garlands, a
red dot splotched between his eyebrows with a sprinkling of rice and thick orange string tightly wrapped around his wrist. I wondered how long it would take this time before the religious sadhus would find him and give him their eternal blessing, or would he be dismissed after not offering a handsome donation to the young enthusiastic sadhu some 8 years earlier.
We have been in India now for a week and to date Gary has remained "dot free" in fact we have had a total hassle free week. Is this really India I find myself asking?
Starting the Indian journey in Kerala has proved a good move. The pace is relaxed and we have been able to do as we please without constantly being harassed. It is definitely a different India in the south.
We managed a few days by the beach, swimming, reading books without a thousand beady eyes watching our every move. Valkala is unashamedly geared for tourists but it makes eating, swimming and moving about a pleasure not a chore.
For the last few days we nestled alongside the backwater, watching the endless processions of houseboats go by and last night we
jumped on board ourselves for a night on the river. Just the two of us with our captain/ driver and personal cook.
I loved meandering through the waterways watching the locals go about the daily life, washing clothes, cleaning their cooking utensils, bathing and kids playing.
From the beach to the backwater it has been a memorable and relaxing week. I think there has been a lot of slack on the tightrope, I am doing just fine.
Penny
More images at:
www.colvinyeates.zenfolio.com
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4mygypsysoul
Rachel Boschman
Fun blog!
It's wonderful to have a different perspective! Thank you!! (Also, I love your captions on your pictures :D )