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Published: November 8th 2006
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Nightrain
Navrati Express from Margao to Cochin Arrived in Ernakalum, Kerala (about 500 miles south of Goa) on the overnight Neverati Express from Margao. Got to the train station at Margao at 2.00pm Monday, train not scheduled until 10.40pm. Groan. Well what can I say, until you’ve spent eight hours on an Indian railway station, you’ve never lived. One thing I found out, Deet keeps the mozzies away but it attracts pariah railway dogs from miles around, I had a pack at my heels all the time I was there, not nice, and man did they stink. Had something (thali) to eat at the railway ‘café’ to pass the time. Then a monsoon hit and flooded out all the platforms and waiting rooms and cut all the power, at least it got rid of the dogs for a bit. The train rolled in 30 minutes late, got on clutching my bags and found my bunk. Cramped, well going by it’s dimensions, your average Indian must be about 4’5. Usual array of earwings, cockroaches shared the bedding but hey who cares anymore. Got woke up at 7.00pm by the chai wallhas (tea boys) and the ticket collector prodding me awake for my ticket. Paid a much needed vist (see
photo) and that cured me of wanting any breakfast. The train chugged through paddy fields and foggy pasturelands dotted with egrets and buffalo. Some of the rail side shanties were pretty bad with little kids foraging in the rubbish alongside the dogs but the people here just seem to accept their lot and get on with life as best they can. The coolest things about Indian trains is that you can just hang from the doorways with steel stanchions whizzing past your head just inches away, one misjudged photo opp and you’re headless toast. I spent an happy hour dodging in and out. Hee hee.
Arrived Eranakalum about three pm Tues, found the jetty and took the ferry across Vembenad Lake to Fort Cochin. This is one of the places I came to India to see. Cochin has been the hub of the Indian spice trade for thousands of years and the colony has seen much conflict, with the Portuguese, Dutch and English all fighting for control of the lucrative trade, it’s what brought the English to India in the first place. Also I wanted to see the Pardesi Synagogue which is the oldest working synagogue in the British Commonwealth.
When you gotta go....
Robocop must have had a blast - he left his shoes! First somewhere to kip, I was dog-tired not having slept much on the train. The place in my guide was full so the rickshaw driver dropped me off somewhere close. He waited outside to see if I had got fixed up. When I went back to say I had he wouldn’t take a tip, insisting I had already paid (19 rupees, about 25p). I was beginning to notice the difference between money grabbing Goa and the genuine friendliness of the people of Kerala.
Dropped the phone off to be repaired (eek) the went to see the fishing nets. These are weird Chinese contraptions which have lined the harbour for generations, it takes about 6 men to operate them with their weird arrangement of weights and ropes. Bought 6 Tiger Prawns (90p) off one of the stalls nearby and a shack owner chucked them on the grill for me, bowl of rice and I was sorted; then bed.
Today I was up early. Dropped some washing off at the desk for the dhobi wallah (20p for a pair of trou, 10p for a shirt) and walked to Bazar Road. This is the centre of the spice trade and the place is
lined with godowns (warehouses) selling all kinds of spices imaginable. The air is full of ginger, cloves, peppers, and the rest (including diesel naturally these days). Little pots of rice and spices are on display so wholesale buyers from around the world can sample the goods before they buy. Where Bazar Road peters out Jewtown begins and here was the Pardesi Synagogue. Down a little dead-end is the synagogue clock tower, here you turn left and having paid 2 rupees (less than a penny) and taken off your shoes you can enter the synagogue proper. Built in the 14th century this synagogue may soon be no more as there are only 13 members (out of the 4000Cochin Jews) left who practice here. No photography is allowed but inside has to be seen to be believed. The floor is covered with 1100 willow pattern tiles, each one individually hand painted. The tora (the Jewish holy) book, written on sheepskin lay behind closed curtains. Crystal lamps and chandeliers hung from the ceiling. I sat on a bench in the corner and eventually the place cleared and for a surreal five minutes or so I had the synagogue to myself, quietness descended and
although this is not my faith, I felt privileged to be left alone here and for a short time all I could hear was the tinkling of goat bells and birdsong.
Back through the Bazar Rd I had a look in the Matacherry Palace and then walked back through gently falling rain to the internet shop near my hotel where I am typing this. It’s now 2.45, I’m going to retrieve my phone from the Indian repair man (oh dear) and try and find a pay phone to talk to my long suffering girlfriend. Kottayam tomorrow and the backwaters of Kerala. Catch you soon…
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Leah Keegan
non-member comment
To grandpa
I have a few tips for the toilet hover over the top and hope for the best. Watch out for the derier of the elephant( I heard they can be very lethal). Make sure the bed bugs dont bite youre head. See you soon. Leah :)