Good Night India!

Neither of us is ready to go home . . . to leave India.  But we must.  No doubt in either of our minds - we'll be back.

Thank you, dear India, for a most excellent adventure!!  We are blest to have known you.

Metta,

Carol & Tim

Kovalam, Raju, and an Ayurvedic Massage!

Kovalam has never been on our travel radar, and what a lovely surprise it turns out to be.  It’s three crescent-shaped beaches punctuated by a lighthouse at one end and a mosque at the other.  And like every beach we’ve seen (on the west coast) in India, there are fishermen using the same techniques as they’ve used for centuries.  The middle of the three beaches has a ‘boardwalk’ (this one is made out of concrete pavers) that could have been transplanted to just about any beachfront tourist town in the US.

Things I’m struck by immediately:  no bars – not a single one; no tattoo parlors – you can get hennaed but not tattooed; no carnival rides; no arcades; beach vendors except those with the chair and umbrella concessions; no stray animals; a police aid and post office booth; no beggars.  Lots of shops – lots and lots of shops - and an abundance of restaurants; a few lodgings right at the beachfront and many, many more up a series of winding alleys leading off the boardwalk and accessible only on foot.  Luggage arrives by pushcart. 

Not very crowded – this is definitely the end of the season.  Tourists are definitely European – we hear a lot of German – and surprise, surprise, a lot of Russians!  Talking to shopkeepers, our hotel clerk, our restaurant guy . . . nobody seems to like them.  

Wandering along the beach front . . .

 Same technique, different beach, different fishermen as in Varkala.  These fishermen even let a few tourists help pull in the nets!

Our room is quite luxurious, perhaps the nicest we’ve had in our entire two months.  We have cable tv, a small refrigerator, individual bedside reading lights, a real shower with a door!!, a modern trough-shaped sink,  a new dual-flush commode, a sea-front balcony with a total killer view and (drum roll please) the very best amenity of all – air conditioning!!!  I am absolutely thrilled and so grateful that we worked this all out at the last minute.  This is a big splurge for us - $44 a night!

Sarah, our delightful desk clerk, 

tells us that Raju’s – just up the hill a bit – is a really good place to eat.  Did I mention that it’s a downhill walk to the beachfront and a very demanding hike (especially in this heat) to get back up to our place?   Closer is definitely better.   Raju turns out to make the very best meals, consistently, that we’ve had in all of India.

About to tuck into dinner.  

Our first night’s wonder – Raju’s Special Chicken

We come back three more times - once for prawns, another time for butter fish, and tonight's 'last souper' - a custom made soup (divine), a light meal before our long ride home.  This man can cook!!!  

Such a sweet man and such a sad story . . . we are the only diners and have a chance to talk to him, at length.  He tells us that his son passed on just nine months ago, at the age of 18, after being seriously injured in a scooter accident.  It’s still so raw and painful.  He’s made a shrine to him on one wall.

I manage to set the camera on the timer . . . we exchange emails and I promise to send him these photos and give him a rave review in TA.

We absolutely cannot leave India without getting an ayurvedic massage.  Our resort advertises them and we sign up for 8:30 am the following day.  Problem – the massage lady (I can have a man or a woman; Tim can only have a man) had to make an emergency trip to the hospital in the middle of the night.  We’re not sure whether it was her emergency or her daughter’s but we cancel the massages. 

Our new buddy, Raju, tells us that Mitra Ayurvedic, just down the hill, is ‘very good.’  We make our appointment for today, our very last day.  We've both had massages, lots of them, but this was something else.  For starters, the only thing you wear is a wee diaper thingee held up by a picee of string just below your navel .  

My masseuse was an older woman, very sweet and grandmotherly, and she spent almost 90" with me.  Starting with my face and head while I was seated on a stool and then on to the table ('face up') and finishing on my stomach.  Not your typical western massage - hard to describe (I think I may have drifted in and out of consciousness!) but lots and lots of oil and lots of pressure point work.  

Then when she's all done, she helps me off the table and into the bathroom where she proceeds to wash my entire body (well, I wash my private areas) with an orange colored paste stuff that removes almost all of the oil.  I'm seated on a stool and she pours warm water all over me . . . I'm a limp noodle and can barely walk home. (I didn't take photos!)

Tim didn't seem as pleased with his but agreed that it was, indeed, different!  He recovered quickly and gladly donned his favorite new article of clothing - his longhi!!

Sleeper Class - Whether We Want it or Not!

Sadly, we agree that staying here any longer just isn’t realistic.  Haksar and Sabeena had planned to have us to their home for dinner later in the week, so we have to break the news to them that we are off to someplace cooler – with AC!

We promise to come back to Sea Splendour . . . we take many wonderful, sweet memories with us and are grateful for their warmth and hospitality.

After looking at the map, we seriously consider going to Kannyakumari at the very tip of India to see the sun rise and set over three seas – the Arabian, the Indian, and the Bay of Bengal.  A number of Indians have told us this is almost like a pilgrimage for them, very important and very popular.   There’s only one problem:  after hours of searching the internet, we can’t find any place to stay that gets rave – or even very good – reviews.  Hmmm . . . could it be because this site caters to Indian rather than Western tourists?  Whatever the reason, we decide not to chance it.

So. . . how about another beach but this time at a place with A/C?  There’s one that’s seems perfect and only about 30” from the airport in Trivandrum from where we fly home in just a few days.  Kovalam – never heard of it but it seems absolutely perfect.  OK – that’s it.  We find a lovely place to stay, with a balcony overlooking the Arabian Sea.  And A/C!!!

Haksar drops us at the Varkala Railway station where we’ll get a train to Trivandrum and then a taxi 15 km to Kovalam.  Tim gets in line to buy our tickets.

“I want two, first class, AC tickets to Trivandrum.” 

 “You no want first class.  Too much.  540 rupees each. You go sleeper class.” 

Huh? 

“I want two, first class, AC tickets to Trivandrum.” 

“I no sell you those tickets.  You go sleeper – only 86 rupees each.” 

With that, she takes the rupees out of Tim’s hand, prints two tickets – sleeper class – gives him his change and says “40 minutes.  You fine.” 

Then she smiles at him.

And she was right!  She saved us about 850 rupees and Tim never had a choice in the transaction!  She was determined that we were going sleeper class and we were not going to waste our money on first class tickets!  Yes, it was an old, grimy, dirty train car but it wasn’t crowded; we had plenty of room.  With the windows open and the fans going, it was quite comfortable.

The station at Trivandrum, capital of the State of Kerala, is remarkable.  Easy to navigate, clean, quiet (by Indian standards) and just as we get off the train, we spot a Kerala Department of Tourism booth where we can book a flat rate taxi without having to haggle with drivers out front.  Thirty minutes later we’re at Varma Resort in Kovalam which is just as advertised – perfect for our last four days in India!

Head for the Hills . . .

Saturday, we’re off to the hills where it’s supposed to be cooler.  Just east and slightly north of Varkala are the Southern Ghats, part of the long mountain range to which the Brits retreated to escape the heat. 

We are a full car:  Haksar, Sabeena, Saifa, Eifson, Tim, me, and the driver.  Destination, the Ponmundi Reserve, about a 2-hour drive.   It is a daunting trip; apparently I’m not the only one subject to carsickness!  We had to stop twice.  Haksar’s son and his wife were both carsick and after vomiting by the side of the road seemed to recover quickly!  That necessitated musical seats, except for me – I stayed planted in the center of the backseat!  I’ve learned that it is the one spot that’s safe.

Ponmundi Reserve is at about 6600’ and reaching the top meant 22 hairpin turns, each one labeled.  This little old lady was selling some kind of fruit by the side of the road - I have no idea how she even got there, or if she even sold anything!!

The view from the top is quite thrilling and panoramic.

It is a bit cooler and definitely less humid.

Wait, what is this??  It’s a film set!  We can’t resist rubber-necking for a bit.

They’re take a break (the actress is inside the grass hut) and Tim swears the male lead, lounging bare-chested on the porch, is getting an impromptu pedicure!

On the way back down, we see a cattle auction and stop to photograph a tea plantation.  

Then it’s off to a nearby waterfall.  Little do we realize that it’s over a 1km hike up the mountain to the actual waterfall!  We make it about two thirds of the way and then decide that we can forego seeing it – we are back in the land of ‘feels like 113 degrees F’ and it’s draining.

We cannot go another meter . . .

Time for lunch, one of those ‘eat with your hands’  family restaurants.  The bill for all seven of us – 650 rupees – about $10.  Interesting, there is a metal jug on the table with a watery liquid tinted pale pink.  Apparently, this is an ayurvedic potion that you drink before a meal to aid digestion.  It’s warm, and all we want is gallons of cold water!  Apparently, drinking cold water before eating is a very bad thing.  Who knew??

We stop to meet Haksar’s three sisters and a brother-in-law, all much older than he.  They serve us juice and jack fruit, which is wonderful.  Jack fruit grows on trees, is about the size of a small watermelon and the outside is completely covered with bumps.  The pieces of fruit are small, shaped like a big potato chip, and the color of peaches.  Never seen these in the US.  Very tasty.

Then it’s off to see his cousin whom he calls brother.  Big, well-furnished house down a dirt road.  The cousin’s son goes to school in the US – ‘corn country’ he tells us – the University of Iowa. 

Last stop, the Peyyar Dam.  Very small by our standards.  Tim estimates it might generate enough power to supply a small - very small - town!   Note how low the water level is; monsoon season is almost here and no doubt the water level will reach up to the tree line.

As we walk away from our vantage point above the dam, we realize that everyone on the dam walkway is now running towards us, waving their hands around their faces, and screaming.  Apparently a swarm of bees had overtaken them.  We walk quickly back to the car.   A group of Indian tourists had run ahead of us and were yelling at the guards to send a bus down to the dam to rescue people. 

Long and exciting day!  It’s after 7pm by the time we get home – 11 hours!  And it's still very, very hot here.

Hot, Hot, Hot!!!

We arrive at Sea Splendour and are stunned by the heat and humidity.  Our new friend, Levi, had warned us back in February, but this is worse than we expected.  And, of course, there is no A/C.  We’d planned to spend the rest of our time here, but this is not seeming like a good idea . . .

Next morning, we confirm that this is, indeed, hot.   When we consult the heat/humidity index, we learn that it ‘feels like’ 113 degrees F.  No wonder we’re uncomfortable!

So we plan a couple of outings that will get us some relief from the heat. 

Meanwhile, we laze around, read, drink lots of fluids, and sleep. 

Not really an escape – more of a diversion - Haksar invites us to come and watch his daughter, Saifa, perform in a dance recital at her school.   (Note:  nearly all schools in Kerala are government-run, and they are excellent.  Children are provided uniforms, books, supplies, and transport – all free – along with qualified and committed teachers.  There are a few private schools in Kerala (religious, mostly) but the government school option is the choice of nearly all families.  Sadly, this is not the case in the rest of India where the government schools are little more than day-care and a last resort for the poorest of the poor.)

Back to the school dance recital . . . this is the end of the school year, and this is a very big deal.  A dance recital, is a dance recital, is a dance recital anywhere in the world.  There are scores of children between the ages of about 5 and 10.  The girls are dressed like wee Bollywood stars; the boys jumping, running, chasing each other around, and just being boys!

These two little fellas were so eager for us to take their photo!

And then there is Saifa, the image of cool - at 9!!

What a beauty!!

Saifa’s first dance is four girls and four boys (I’m amazed at the number of boys dancing!).  She is obviously the best dancer.  The other kids keep looking to see what she’s doing, taking their lead from her, and she is occasionally looking off stage.  From our picture-taking vantage point, we can see the teacher just off-stage, miming all the steps for the children!

Saifa’s second dance is just she and a young man.  The steps are complicated and unbelievably energetic, with some of them what I can only characterize as very adult!  She is poised and confident; the young man seems to be less so but nonetheless very involved.

They were constantly in motion - hard to get a non-blurry photo!

We stay for over an hour and decide it’s too hot and the three of us head home.  (It went on for two more hours!)  Later that afternoon, Saifa can’t wait to show us her First Place Award – Best Dancer in the Whole School!!  Well done Saifa!!