The big day out.
Wednesday, we ventured out of tourist town to the north to meet Robin and Rowan for our backwater tour. After a bit of research, we found a taxi driver willing to fleece us a little less for the treat of driving us at breakneck pace to Alleppey. We hit the four-hour, the girls gossiping in the back and Dan making small attempts at mollifying conversation in the front. I had naively hoped we'd see a bit of Kerala's countryside on the way - a bit of the green and wonderful God's Own Country the Keralans advertise, but the road cut its way through village after town after village, each one full of activity. And so Kovalam became, Trivandrum, became Kollam, linked by a mad procession of beeping taxis and tuc tucs until we reached Alleppey. Far more interesting however, to see this urban sprawl than my imagined countryside and if I had been awake enough I would have written a list of all the things, big and small that struck me. It's such a good way to see a place and try and understand a little of what happens there, from the window of a car - sorry to promote this evil polluting way of getting around. We passed mosques at call-to-prayer time, temples, and churches; schools at the begining of the day with neatly dressed kids carrying huge back packs (Kerala's literacy rate is super good) We saw kingfishers and dogs and skinny cows with their young and fried bats on electricity power cables. Lots of adverts for the imminent arrival of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, the big holy man from the north with the sparkling eyes. An elephant on the back of a truck, on his way to work, I suppose
So glad we chose Mr Pappachan's four wheel drive (another eco-no-no), when we reached Alleppey, despite his unique approach to customer relations. The road to Puppali, the backwater village where Robin and Rowan were waiting with our rice boat, was full of potholes. Mr Pappachan had previously demonstrated the excellent suspension of his vehicle by rocking the car furiously at a petrol station with the three of us still inside. Good entertainment for the petrol station attendants and a chance for us to see him smile for the first time.
The rice boat trip was memorable. The backwaters are a unique part of the land - for better description of the paddy fields and the communities that live there see Dan's blog. The boat we hired was spacious and came with a full crew and plentiful meals thrown in. We lounged around on the top deck in the sun and spied on the locals as we floated past. You're in that very odd predicament of wanting to simulaneously resist or succumb to the indolent, easy life of those who have things done for them. All feels very 19th century which again is something of a predicament. The modern twist is provided by the camera as you take photos of women washing, cleaning their teeth, carrying fish, on their way to church. (lots of cright wihte chruches in this area which was settled centuries ago by Syrian christians). We floated past a group of men burning some interesting piles of matter under a temple shaped structure. A funeral pyre? The men chatted with each other easily, talked on mobile phones. One of us took a photo.
We had a lovely lunch. Fish and dal and beetroot curry. The men cooked up a feast and then snoozed it off in the kitchen in the afternoon. We then went to the prawn market - one man and his wife and a vat full of huge, blue-veined tiger prawns fished from the rivers. For our tea.
Tea never came for us, of course. (see Dan's blog for more technicolour description). Instead, a memorably feverish night in our rice boat bedroom, delirious conversations with Dan, mournful trips upstairs to spend some precious minutes in the company of Robin and Rowan, lots of lime juice and salt from our boat boy doctors. The most effective travellers de-tox. I only call this entry Heart of Darkness as that's all i could think of at 5.30am when the local temple alarm clock began - amazing how far one man and a microphone can spread the word - and I'd been vomitting for 12 hours straight. But, the sunlight on the far shore was beautiful and I could just about see a woman starting the endless cycle of washing. A fushia pink sari against the green of the bush. And then I felt bad for thinking of horrific journeys up fetid unknown rivers, as this really was a lovely place.
