Stories from South India Chapter Two

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This is the story of our day, May 7, 2006. The following includes no exaggerations, as it needs none.

We woke up in the morning at our comfortable homestay in Fort Cochin, The Spencer Home. Our third day in Kochi. We lingered in bed a little longer than usual. We were a bit hesitant to start this day. Today was the day we'd planned to attend Thrissur Pooram, Kerala's biggest festival. Today was the final day of the festival, and we were excited at the chance to see elephants adorned in festival attire. We hesitated because 8 people were killed a few days ago by firework explosions associated with the festival.

We decided to go for it. After all, we had to cancel our trip to Sri Lanka because of air strikes the night before we were to leave, and the threat of an impending war, so why miss another opportunity? So we got out of bed, did some stretches, got dressed and tip-toed out of the homestay. It was 9 AM, but no one was awake. We seem to be early risers here in Fort Kochi (this coming from Amanda?). This is the mellowest place on earth. It's also off-season. Our homestay gave us a special secret half-off rate of 400 Rupees/night for an awesome room on the garden next to the jasmine tree. But we're not supposed to tell anyone. Shhhhhhh.

On our way to breakfast, we were approached by an auto driver who asked us, "Do you want to be in a film?" We've gotten used to the random questions from strangers, but this seemed a bit odd for 9 AM. Rich said, "That's weird. That's strange. Get away from me."

We go into a little cafe called the Teapot we've come to like and immediately forgot the question. We saw the same couple sitting at their corner table, just where they were yesterday. We sat down and ordered mint tea, pancakes with honey, and pineapple and banana (at our same table, the same thing we ordered the day before). The tables are made of old wooden tea crates. The walls are cement with yellow paint chipping off. There are antique brass and copper tea pots decorating the room. And old photographs of Lipton Ceylon Tea factory.

After a bit, the same auto driver from before and his companion come in the tea shop and start talking with the owner. Soon the owner approaches us and says, "It seems they want you to be in a film. A Malayalam film." We say, "This seems unusual." The owner assures us, "This is quite common. There is nothing dicey about it. It seems they are in need of foreigners and there aren't too many around." Now we are curious. We envision a Bollywood extravaganza, beautiful Indian clothing, jewellery, make-up, music, dancing. So we ask a few more questions. With some probing we discover it is really just and "ad-film" commercial for an IT company set abroad. They need to shoot today and they need some westerners. It will take all day. They will feed us and drive us to Thrissur and back to Fort Kochi for free in their a/c car (a two hour trip each way). It is being directed by a supposed famous director. The production assistant seems to have incorporated the auto driver as a translator. He has no business card. No proof of anything. No actors on the day of the shoot. Then it becomes apparent that they may not be using Rich at all, and they only want Amanda to be the "boss ma'am" and did I have a suit jacket. Oh, sure, I have a suit in my backpack. Look at me! I'm wearing a stained and wrinkled shirt. I'm sweating. My hair is a ratty mess. But I could easily transform into a corporate tycoon in a few minutes. Sure. We nicely asked for some time to consider, then we politely declined. They got very mad at us and stormed out. Oh well. We weren't going to miss the elephants for a shady operation IT commerical.

We walk to the ferry. Take the ferry to Ernakulum. An auto to the bus stand. And get the last two seats to Thrissur. We began a hot, sweaty ride to Thrissur. Two hours, thank God, not more. People kept piling in the bus. When we left Ernakulum, Rich said, "They can't possibly fit any more people in the bus." They must have fit at least 50 more.

We arrive in Thrissur and find our way to the main temple. It is all ready for the event. Bleecher seats. Police at the ready. Looks like a fairgrounds before a concert. It must be at least 100 degrees and the sun is beating down. We're given cardboard fans and sunvisors advertising some local ammenities. We buy a bottle of cold water and it turns hot within minutes. We eat a make-shift lunch of two bananas each and half a kit kat. No one would sell us bananas. They were only for making juice shakes. We had to talk some guy into it. No thank you I don't want a shake from your dirty blender! I just want a banana!

After some sweating and searching we see the elephants. Outside the temple getting ready for the procession. 15 elephants all in a row, mahoots at the side, riders on top, umbrellas above. We walk up closely and they start to march right towards us. We hurry out of the way. Not only do they have golden headdresses, but garlands of flowers, bells around their ankles, bells around their necks. Each one has gigantic tusks. Rich takes a video of them coming right at him. A deaf man approaches us and wants to have a chat, so Rich writes him a note on a cardboard sunvisor. Everyone wants to chat with us. The elephants enter the temple and we wait under a shady banyan tree until the crowd thins out. We make our way inside. Take some more photos. There are a handful of other foreigners who also look like they are about to pass out. It is dangerously hot. Things start to get a little rowdy. And then we hear the fireworks begin. What happened to NOT having fireworks because of what happened the other day? I guess that's already been forgotten. It was completely awesome to see these elephants. Mission accomplished.

We head back to the bus stand and after being pointed all over the place for the bus to Ernakulum, a police officer puts us on a "Super Fast Bus." Never get on a "Super Fast Bus." If you are told to get on a "Super Fast Bus" in India, turn around and walk away super fast. Find a slow one. They are fast enough. Nothing on earth is worth getting anywhere in India 30 minutes quicker at the rate this man was driving. The bus slows down for a second and we jump on. There are no seats left. The aisle is already packed. So we have to stand up front. Amanda is right next to the driver. It was the craziest ride of our lives. The driver had a rosary around the rear view mirrow and a cross on the key change. Apparently, he assumed Jesus was driving, because he was a sociopath. The speedometer was broken and, in fact, no gauge on the dashboard showed signs of life. We held on for dear life. The bus overtook everything. We missed hitting another bus by inches. We nearly collided head-on with a truck. We almost plowed over a couple on a motorcycle. It should have been scary but it was oddly exhilarating. Adrenalin rush. We must have crossed some travelling threshold for this not to bother us. Rich soon beckons me to the safer middle of the bus. I eventually get a seat next to a sleeping lady who thought nothing of taking up most of the seat for herself, leaving only a small space for me. Rich doesn't get a seat until the last 30 minutes. We finally arrive and praise the Lord we're alive. We take an auto to the boat jetty to take a ferry back to Fort Kochi. The auto driver tries to talk us into letting him drive us the whole way for 100 Rupees. We are not having it. "No, please just drive us to the jetty!"

When we get there we wait on line. Rich smokes a beedi. 2 rupees a pack. An international ex-Catholic once almost Free Mason man of mystery named Asok ("the man without sorrows" named this because he didn't cry when he was born, just started looking around) at the yoga class gave him one the other day while they talked about politics and religion and I was put into an Arabian Sea trance. Abe circled around me with incense while I lay in sivasana (corpse pose, lying on my back motionless). He told me to breathe in the Arabian Sea air and he melodically told each of my muscles to "get relaxed" and then all my internal organs, one at a time "getting them to relax" until I did just that. Relaxing my pancreas. Get it to relax. Relaxing my liver. Get it to relax. Relaxed. Miracle of miracles. A few more of these yoga classes and I'll be permanently floating, man. So, the beedi. We waited and at the last minute the man decides to tell us we need to buy our tickets before we get on, not on board like before. So we turn around and see the long line. We almost cry that we'll miss the ferry. But, luckily, and strangely, like many things are here in India, the lines were segregated by sex. The ladies line was surprisingly short. So Amanda manages to get the 5 rupee tickets and we get on the boat. A fight breaks out one pier over. A skinny guy in a pink shirt and tight white paints holds a big strong guy by the collar of his shirt. The big guy looks scared. 30 guys are trying to pull the skinny guy off. Everyone on our boat goes to one side to look. Finally we leave.

When we arrive we treat ourselves to a 20 rupee auto ride back to the homestay. We get the inevitable question immediately. "Which country?" Ah, we are so tired, we can't really remember. USA. "Ah, America, Bush country. What do you think of your Bush rule?" We are too tired for politics today. We dodge his questions and get home. It feels like home. Our laundry is drying on the line. My orange saree is dried and folded nicely on a bed. It had to have an emergency washing. Just the day before, empowered by my trance-like relaxation, I decided to wear it. I thought I had it on pretty well and then I asked a lady from the hotel who was picking jasmine outside our room for help and before I knew it, two ladies had unwrapped and re-wrapped me re-pinned me with extra safety pins all Indian ladies wear on their necklaces while they are in their nightgowns - ready for saree emergencies. They had me fixed perfectly! Kerala style, the pleats a little to the right. I was so tightly wrapped! Rich and I headed out to walk towards the fishing nets for lunch. He in his dhoti, me in saree, we were complimented by every person we passed. "Ah, nice, Kerala style!" Other travellers wonder at how we got ourselves into these clothes. These clothes mean we must know somebody. We visit St. Francis Church, where Vasco da Gama was originally buried in 1524. We meet a lady and a young girl from Florida and/or Illinois. American accents. An rarity. The lady was copying the Malayalam letters from the Bible. The girl had big green eyes and was about the same age I was when I first came to India. The lady said they'd been here for 2 months and the girl was having a tough time. I said I had a hard time too when I was little, but it was such an amazing thing for me to come when I was young. I always remembered it. Now I'm back in a saree. Kerala style. We wave as we leave. We head down to the water and buy 1/2 a kilo of fresh prawns from the fishmongers. Rich wanted to catch the fish we ate, but we were too hungry, maybe next time. We have them cooked for us in garlic and lemon and little spice. We have french fries and illegal beer aka "special tea" (no liquor license) out of tea cups. Incense lit to ward off flies. It was a lovely lunch, until a stray cat comes and pees on my saree!!!! I was so upset. It was so disgusting. So I went back and sadly changed. I had just gotten the thing on! And it looked so nice. So, you see, it had to be cleaned, immediately. I've let down my guard on a lot of hygenic issues in order to survive while traveling, but come on, one has to maintain some level of decency, right? And now it was folded and fresh on the bed. Home.

With a shower we felt satisfied and ready for dinner. We headed out. Along the way we were greeted by Magic Johnson. Magic Johnson is an auto driver. We met him the other day when we were walking. Rich was holding his dhoti up to walk and this guy stops his auto, gets out, and gives a lesson in wearing a dhoti Kerala-style, folding his dhoti with great flourish and extra pleats. If you want to make friends in India, wear a dhoti. He tells us his name is Magic Johnson (he is tiny and skinny) we say, oh really? that's great! "But sometimes people call me Michael Jordan." really? cool! "My name is Johnson but foreigners call me Magic Johnson." Aha! So we see him again. Hey, Magic, what's up? "You need a ride?" No thanks, we'll walk. "Walking is not good for our business, give me one chance." Sorry, Magic, not tonight, maybe later. Later we'll have to have him drive us somewhere. But everything is really close in Fort Kochi, so it's tough. We walk and sense the presence of people behind us. "Which country? How long you hear? Where you going next? You like India?" They are in the Indian navy. This is a seaport town. Next we see the auto driver from this morning that tried to lure us off to the film shoot. How do we know so many people, we just got here? Apparently, they found some foreigners and the ad-film was shot. Great. A man in a dhoti on a bike comes down the middle of the street. "Marijuana, Ganja, I have." A shop owner we met the other day tries to lure us in. Another man in a dhoti on a bicycle, "Marijuana, Ganja, I have," he dismounts to tell us that "Many people come here for the fish" (he pantomimes eating) "but i have the special cheeba cheeba in my pocket.. many people come here for the fish...." Great. Rich takes my hand and we cross the street. Safe for a moment. Then, instantly, a man materializes out of thin air and is inches away, "Take a look in my shop." Yikes, how did he get there? We duck into a restaurant and look at the menu. No one is there. They turn on the lights, get excited. No one is there. Off season. We go somewhere else. A little place with a white picket fence filled with westerners. It feels like New Hope, Pennsylvania. We sit next to a couple we saw walking the first night we came. They seem interesting. What is their story? Where are they from? How did they wind up here together? It starts to rain. Thunder. Lightening. Downpour. Cool air. Refreshing. We have a few pots of special tea. More happened today than we can even fathom. Two months in one day. One day in two months. A year in four months. Who knows? sorry, if your head is spinning, ours is.

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Photos

Mount Up
Ox carts have nothing on me.

Words of Wisdom
Inspirational outer wall of Santa Cruz Church in Fort Kochi

Here They Come
This was so unbelievable, standing still as the elephants began to march towards us

Comments

[Dad]

Is there a better life? Such experiences and people. You have so much to offer. WOW. Stay safe.rsvp@ the north. Ed

[d]

living
fantastic! i close my eyes and i am almost there myself.