Keralan New Year

Asia » India » Kerala » Varkala
February 2nd 2009

Published: February 4th 2009

Edit Blog Post

travellers2

gokarna

bathing ghats

A Happy New Year to all our readers! Thank you for all your news and feedback and those who've donated so generously to our cause.... only kidding! We two are one again, Penny having flown back to England from Islamabad for the birth of Rose's baby, Cissy, while John headed on to India.
On Boxing Day, after three weeks in Gokarna, he caught the early morning 'local' bus to Hampi, a boneshaker full of locals all with their various sacks of wares and food etc.. Although it took nine hours, it was a pleasant and sometimes delightful ride through rural India. At first, it went through jungle (Indian word) then climbed into the Western Ghats. Rich red soil, which gradually became more cultivated as the jungle faded into flat plain when coconut and banana groves took over, as did paddies and strip-system fields. The soil became even redder as the bus approached Hampi. The villages passd through en route were hives of activity with, as ever, women at work cleaning and laundering, and men in the nearby fields ploughing with oxen or harvesting the various crops: chillies, sweet corn, aubergine, spinach, rice - the dietary basics. What is a constant amazement

booth

seen en route to Hampi

is how the women dress always in dazzling saris, looking so perfectly clean and well kempt even when doing the filthiest of chores.
As the bus approached Hampi town, the reasons for its popularity as a tourist attraction was evident every where you looked - massive ancient structures carved out of the sandstone; ancient city walls, built on the same lines as Aztec structures - huge stones cut jigsaw fashion fit the neighbouring stones perfectly. There were also many ornate temples dotted every where, some perched on outcrops with bases moulded on to the rock shape. The rocks themselves are an attraction, with Hampi described as 'the rock climbing capital of India'.
John had assumed there would be a wealth of places to stay as the common cry everywhere so far was 'no tourists coming'. After the Taj bombing flights had been cancelled in droves, and though the attacks had targeted the luxury end it seemed the likes of us, budget backpackers, were staying at home too.
To his great disappointment, Hampi was bustling, and as he soon discovered, there was no room at the inn. Eventually, he accepted a very basic mud hut described as a 'bungalow'. No mesh

hampi

altar carved into the rock

on the windows, no electricity, no mosquito net. He took it, as he felt disinclined to traipse around any longer and it was getting dark.To reach the lodging, a boat is needed to cross the river, which is on the northern boundary of Hampi. For more than three people a motorised boat is used, but three or less are ferried across by coracle, just the same as the Welsh version.
One of the cautions to be heeded when using these mud huts, is to be watchful for snakes, scorpions and anything else that might crawl in and give you a big surprise! The big one whilst staying on the beach in Gokarna was a cobra spotted in the garden, just feet from John's room. Whilst dramatic, he was more concerned about scorpions and other small stingers/biters, as they can crawl into anything: bags, clothes, beds, and be unnoticed until you sit/step/lie on them. His big uninvited guest, when he got back to the hut after his evening meal, was a very big, very fast, spider. After some reflection, he reasoned that it would be uninterested in him, and more likely to want the insects, so he decided to leave it

hampi

river from south side

alone. It was nowhere to be seen in the morning .... If the memsahib had been there, it would have been another story! He spent his time in Hampi at this guest house - 'Roots and Rocks' - and his neighbours were a bunch of guys who monopolised the airwaves with very loud trance music - nightmare! He spoke with them, which worked initially, but with no long term results, so all in all not a happy stay.
Hampi is a wonderful archaeological site and John hired a moped to get around, which was a great way to cool down as the heat during the day was intense. As well as the ruins, the rock formations are also a treat. He spent a very hour or two photographing these opposite the bathing ghats on the townside of the river.
Not being able to use the room to relax, sleep or write coloured his time in Hampi, and ironically, having bought a sleeper bus ticket to Bangalore expecting a good night's sleep, he then found himself opposite a guy who wanted to play music on his mobile phone through the night. They had words! He arrived in Bangalore at 6am on

bangalore

I waited...

31st December, and had the first decent sleep in four days.
Penny had a fraught flight back to India on New Year's Eve. Her plane wasn't able to land at Delhi because of thick fog, so went on to Mumbai. After seven hours there, her onward connection to Bangalore was missed, so after a night in Delhi was finally able to meet up with John in Bangalore after a 48 hour journey.
We spent a couple of recovery nights in Bangalore before setting off on our search for a tropical idyll, beginning with Kannur on the Keralan coast. En route, we needed to change buses at Mysore, which proved to be tricky to say the least. The bus station was so quintessentially Indian. Chaotic, confusing, amazingly crowded, and with what appeared to be a very flexible timetable. The bus for Kannur was apparently leaving at 2.00, 2.30 or possibly 2.45pm. In the event, it either didn't go, or we didn't see it, and had to wait until 10.30 at night, in the dark, when of course two buses turned up. Having waited nearly twelve hours in the bus station, we took the 'luxury' option. After a hairy night journey through

bangalore

And I waited.....

the Western Ghats, we arrived at Kannur in the early morning. Sadly, the beach was about 12km from the town, and although lovely, had only accomodation beyond our budget.
We learned that there was to be a 'theyaam' performance out near a village about 15km away, starting we thought, at 4.30pm. We caught a rickshaw out and ended up at a temple in a coconut grove near a lake, very remote. We were greeted by a group of men who were involved in funding and organisisng the event, and were shown around the temple then given a delicious meal on banana leaf plates - free 'prasad', temple food. Things kicked off at about 6.00, with a performer who had been fasting and meditating for his role. His torso had been painted with ochre, patterned with white designs, and he had a skirt falling from an armature that went round and below his well rounded belly. He had a very elaborate headress of gold and silver and flowers, and a heavily painted face with a white 'beak' around his mouth. His arms and ankles were decorated with heavy bracelets, and he wore silver sandles. He was accompanied by five wonderful drummers,

kannur

the theyyam begins

and three other musicians playing cymbals and horns. He performed an intricate dance alone, then accompanied by the temple priest who was almost in a trance-like state, performing elaborate rituals with strips of palm leaf and white paste. When he had finished his dance, a great queue of people formed to ask about the future, or to receive a blessing - we saw one woman come away in a very distressed state, so it wasn't all good news.
There followed a brief intermission, during which time it became apparent that stalls had been set up outside the temple, giving it a real festive air. Later, another performer dressed as a different local deity took over, this time with an elaborate breast plate and long raffia hair beneath another very ornate headress. More dancing and ritual anointing, followed much later by a riotous procession that had come from another village, with a dancing troupe of drummers and cymbal players, more umbrellas and headresses and five or six trailers with huge effigies of deities. Incredibly exuberant and noisy, followed by fireworks which, since it was midnight we felt we should sadly forego as there was a chance to get a lift back

kannur

another deity in the theyyam

to the town - otherwise we may have been stranded there until the following morning. It was a wonderful event to have witnessed, and it was interesting to discover that the main performers, who towards the end of the allnighter would be wearing 20 foot headresses, were all local men who traditionally came from the lowest caste. They certainly had more than their 15 minutes of fame!
We left Kannur for Fort Cochin on the 10th. Jan. The train journey took about seven hours and cost the two of us ( with senior citizen discount!) about two pounds thirty. Bargain! When we arrived in Fort Cochin we discovered rooms were scarce and pricey. As was everything else.. It is also very touristy. We suspected that Kerala was like that all over, having been a tourist destination for a long time - like Goa. So Westerners are well catered for, at a price! Still, a decent cup of coffee was a real bonus.
One of the big attractions are the huge fishing nets. They are great mediaeval looking contraptions which are lowered and raised by cantilever, weighted by ropes strung with large stones. They're very beautiful and take four men to

Fort Cochin

'Chinese' cantilevered fishing nets

pull each net up. Usually the catch seemed small - a bucket full of fish - but must beat line fishing. The design is said to have originated in China.
On one of our days there we hired a scooter to take us out to Cherai beach on Vypeen Island - one of the several islands on the Cochin archipelago. The beach was long, sandy and palm fringed, with warm sea, hot,hot sun, and unspoiled - which also meant no shelter, drinks, food or accomodation; and in that heat it's vital to have shade or the brains quietly bake. Actually, a huge stone breakwater has been built between the beach and the road, and this is not attractive. Another possible idyll dissolved in the heat haze...
Back in Fort Cochin, the old docklands area is very atmospheric - places crumbling and facades peeling on buildings that used to be spice warehouses. Other wooden buildings are still functioning as rice wholesalers, with men sitting at counters near the entrances with little bowls showing the variety and quality of rice that they stock - in some cases 12-15 different bowls. In between buildings you can see through into the harbour, or into

Fort Cochin

mending nets

courtyards or little winding passages. Through one such archway, we saw men raking and putting into sacks root ginger that had been spread on the grouind to dry.
There is an excellent programme of classical Indian music and dance at the little wooden Kerala Kathakali Centre. Every evening they present a different concert, showcasing both Northern Hindustani and Southern Karnatic musical styles, and featuring some very good musicians. They also stage a daily abridged Kathakali performance. We were able to watch the four performers apply their intricate make up prior to the show. The character of Arjuna, a green faced god, had a wonderful beard applied in rice paper - the make up took an hour to be completed, then the presenter explained how the make up is all made from stones or vegetation, before he sang a beautiful accompaniment to the performance. The actors are all highly trained and skilled in their use of eyes, facial muscles and the thousands of mudras - finger and hand gestures - used instead of verbal language. The performance had an element of clowning and slapstick, maybe to hold the attention of a Western audience.
A few days later we took off to

Varkala

the beach

Varkala in Southern Kerala, to satisfy Penny's yearning for the perfect beach after a chilly December in Brighton, and took the local bus for a four hour journey with a psychopath as driver. Varkala is a collection of guest houses, restaurants and tourist tat shops dotted along the cliffs above the beach. The cliffs are of beautiful red sandstone, and there is some black sand amongst the gold of the beach. The sea is good, with wonderful waves for body surfing, but the current is very strong in places. The restaurants have a wide selection of freshly caught fish - shark, marlin, barracuda, tuna, king fish, butter fish and something they call sea salmon, looking nothing like the salmon we know. It was sad to see such wonderful specimens as the marlin and especially the shark, now rare thanks to the Orient's taste for Shark Fin soup. It was once a delicacy enjoyed by the few, and now a delicacy enjoyed by the many emerging status-conscious middle classes in China, Korea etc..We weren't inclined to eat any.
The days passed with a punishing schedule of swimming, sunbathing, eating, reading, and in the cool of the evening a hand of cards!

Varkala

boats on the beach

Walking northwards from the resort one day, we came across an ancient and labour intensive form of fishing. A net had been taken out to sea by one of the small local boats - three trunks lashed together - and laid in a U shape with ropes and wooden floats coming to two points on the beach, about 100 metres apart. Gradually the net was pulled in with six or seven men on each rope, and a further two men in the water guiding the net in and trying to ensure that the fish didn't escape. The hauling in took about half an hour, and the catch relative to the number of men involved and the time it took was pitiful - about a bucketful of small fish, and three larger specimens. They then had to shake out, dry, and rewind the net and ropes, ready for the next catch.
Whilst not quite the sought after perfect beach, it was pretty good, and it proved quite hard to leave. However, we were on a mission, so at the end of ther month we hopped on to the train to Alleppey to savour the delights of the fabled backwaters of Kerala.