Leaving Varkala . . .

Leaving Sea Splendour and Varkala . . .
It's hard to believe that we have been here for two weeks, but it's time to leave.  Tomorrow morning  (Friday) our taxi comes at 2:30 a.m. for a 6 a.m. flight from Trivandrum to Varanasi, via Kochi, Delhi, and Gaya.  And, as has been true for  our entire stay here, Haksar has arranged everything.

Another traveler, Matthew, one of the few Americans we've met here, said that after traveling the world, he's convinced this is the absolute best place on the planet.  He had been here since October and just left for Thailand.  How is it that we always manage to meet a New Yorker wherever we go!

Photo of us in Sea Splendour's restaurant with Matthew and Haksar's beautiful children, daughter Saifa and son, Afshin.   Matthew also tells us that Haksar's restaurant has the absolute best food 'on the whole beach.'  We've eaten every meal here and have to agree!

And our fabulous host, Haksar, with us and with his wife, Sabeena, and Saifa.

Someone remind me to burn this pink blouse!  It's been on several continents and it's time for a trip to the ghats!!

Random observations about our time in India so far . . . the people are incredibly kind and happy.  Varkala is a lesson in peaceful coexistence.  The government of Kerala (Varkala's State) is a coalition led by the Communist party.  The three major religions are represented here, pretty much equally - 30% Muslim, 30% Hindu, and 30% Christian - right now we're now listening to the chants from the mosque and three days (and nights) ago it was the music from the Hindi festival.  Have included photos of Hindu temples and a catholic church; here is the beachfront mosque,just 5 minutes from us

So we're left with 10% of the population unaccounted for, religiously that is.  I think their religion is yoga.

Presenting Miss Nimble Pants, ardent daily practitioner whom we watched, fascinated, from our balcony nearly every morning.  I didn't have the camera out when she went into an elbow stand then into a half then full lotus!!  With my camera I felt somewhat like a voyeur but you don't see her face . . .

She actually stood up from this position and then went right back down . . . several times!

A couple of random thoughts . . . almost all the foreign tourists are German, a few from English-speaking countries and even fewer from the U.S. (or America as they say here). Just a few of the things we've not seen or heard:  trash cans, trash trucks, mail boxes, mail trucks, semis, crying children, repair vehicles, traffic lights, road signs (the only one I remember at a RR crossing on one of our excursions) - in English and Malayallam.

We have a few rituals (watching Miss Numble Pants is one of them) and another is our evening Kingfisher on the beach watching the sun set.

Good night sun . . .

Good night water buffaloes on the beach . . .

Good night room . . .

Good night Sea Splendour . . .

Good night Haksar . . .

Good night pink blouse!
On to Varanasi!!

Swami Temple

Not far from us is the Swami Temple, a 2000 year old compound complete with bathing area across the street.  Pray, chant, wash away your sins.  Sounds like a plan except for the washing away of sins - the holy immersion pool has enough sins without adding ours to it!  We both have pretty healthy immune systems but this water might be the challenge that does us in!  Anyway, back to the Temple.

It's just outside Varkala Town on the way to Holy Beach (the Arabian Sea).  Haksar drops us at the Temple steps and the first thing we see is a 'shoe check' stand.  A bit of a digression . . . when we were planning this trip, we read about the removal of shoes at all holy sites.  Actually, that was a bit understated.  You pretty much take your shoes off whenever you go inside anywhere!  Shops, restaurants - all have an array of shoes higgledy-piggledy outside the entrance (remember our visit to St. Sebastian's).  And somehow it all works!  We haven't lost our shoes, stepped on anything nasty, or brought anything yucky home.

Back to shoe check man.  This is the first time we've had to pay to 'check shoes - 20 rupees'.  About 30 cents.  There are a number of other pairs so we figure it's safe and we won't have to go home barefoot.  Shoe check man also tells us 'take pictures, extra 100 rupees.  you take pictures, you pay 100 rupees when you come back.'

It's about a 4-5 story hike to the actual temple.  Whew!  The first thing we see is this very old, very strangler fig kind of tree festooned with plastic dolls, about 6" tall, on strings, attached to the fig roots.  A picture is better.

We speculate as to what this is all about and then see a non-Indian couple placing a doll on the tree.  Tim asks them why they're doing that.  Their response - to ask for a healthy baby.  Ahhh - sort of a spiritual fertility thing.

This is a very sacred Hindi Temple and it has the look and feel of a well-loved, well-used place.  In the center is a place off limits to all but Hindus who have properly prepared themselves (bathed, properly attired, mentally prepared) - interesting.

Around the perimeter is a series of what look like rooms for the holy men, gathering places and mini-shrines.  All the signs (except the one outside the holy of holies which was in English and a couple of other languages) are in Malayalam.  Not much to see but we are both struck by the number of young people here - young men who make some sort of circuit around the shrines.  A couple of photos.

Several of the walls have all these holders which we think are for oil which is lit during ceremonies.

And what may amaze us more than anything is this HUGE tree - it must be almost 2000 years old.

Note the oil holders underneath.

A couple more views including the steps down to the street.

Time to reclaim our shoes, check out the holy pool.  Shoe check man gives us each a piece of newspaper to wipe our feet with!

I see one man scrubbing his flip flops with soap and a brush.  Note the steps - they were all around this pool.  The next thing we know we're in the midst of a huge traffic aim!  Elephant and all!

I thought maybe this was Lakshmi come to say hello!

We were literally this close to this huge truck with this display? on the back.

Lots of honking, way too many people directing traffic and somehow it all works out!
Enough adventure for one day - time to head home!

Tunnel, Temple, Fort

We lazed away a couple of days and then decided we needed to see some more of the local sights.  Haksar called our kamikaze rickshaw (we call them tuk tuks but Indians still call them rickshaws) driver, and we're off to the see the local trifecta of Varkala:  the Varkala Tunnel, the Sivagiri Temple, and the 18th century Fort Ajengo built by the British (not sure what they were defending/protecting down here).

The Varkala Tunnel, allegedly built in the mid 1800's by the local dewan of Travancore, is 924 feet long and took 14 years to complete.  It was obviously slow going.  So the 'allegedly' comes from the dates inscribed on the Tunnel face: 1939-1945.  Not quite as slow going.

At one time, boats could actually pass through this tunnel but over the years (take your pick 1800's or mid 20th century), it's silted in and now is a weird tourist relic.  There is actually a river down there - somewhere. Our lungi-clad driver describing it to (a clearly dubious) Tim.

Behind them is a series of concrete stalls that appear to function as public bathing/laundry centers.

We saw a couple of women with baskets of laundry on their heads and heard children squealing with delight under the perpetually-running faucets.

Off to the Sivagiri (pronounced 'sheevagiri') Temple.  This was a real surprise.  It's a pilgrimage center as well as a temple, dedicated to the teachings of Sree Narayana Guru, a social reformer of the early 20th century.  He's also buried here.

We quickly figured out this was not Hindu, Moslem or any other religion we knew.  A very serene place with a few pilgrims, cautiously photographed by yours truly.

And one new pilgrim.

Beautiful, serene place (with a very long climb to get to the actual temple).

The Guru's vision:  One god, one people, one world.

Off to Fort Ajengo.

A busload of school children were just in front of us (we were the only other visitors) and after we signed the 'guest book' (literally a book with all the names of visitors) the girls stood excitedly asking 'where are you coming from?' 'What is your name?'  And when I said 'Carol' they giggled uncontrollably. Huh?  This isn't the first time this has happened - think I may try another name for this trip.  Any ideas?  Somehow I don't think anyone would believe 'Sabeena, or Salma, or Zephyr'!  The school girls waving goodbye.

We were standing on a parapet walkway when I took this photo, no guard rail, no hand holds - straight fall to the ground!  All the school children wear uniforms and they appear to be the same all over Varkala - neat.  Boys wear the same colors (I don't know how that one fella snuck in there!)

Pretty uneventful as forts go but a sweet experience.  Tomorrow the Swami temple!

The Most Wonderful Festival!

We're off to the festival!  And, as promised, we are the only non-Indians in sight.  And all nine elephants are decked out (and chained) and ready for the parade.

The rhythm band accompanies the procession.

After a circuit of the festival grounds, all nine elephants parade out into the street!

Now there's a traffic jam!!  And just like this amazing country, it somehow works.  Imagine nine elephants on any street in the US!!  The three of us run to the tuk tuk and follow in their wake.  Aisam tells us they're headed for the temple.  We're in pursuit, as 'hot' as our 3-wheeled wonder with the death-defying driver can go.

We turn into a dirt lane and about 300m in, we're approached by a man who gestures and tells Aisam something which he understands because we pull off and the three of us get out and pursue on foot.  and here is perhaps the most unbelievable part of this adventure.  We are running in-between trees, keeping the elephants in sight . . .

And this man across the dirt lane waves at me, smiles, and makes some sort of gesture.  I smile back, tap Aisam on the shoulder and point out smiling/waving man.  They exchange words and Aisam gestures to both of Tim and me to 'come, come.'  And there we are, surrounded by this smiling, gracious family, three generations, all eager to talk to us.  Chairs appear along with two cups of the 'traditional Kerala drink', a mixture of coconut milk, raisins, spices, shredded coconut and some sort of thickener.  'Sit, sit'  'Where are you coming from?' 'Are you liking Kerala?' 'Where are you staying?' 'What is your name?'  Tim and I nearly cry when the father announces, 'You are our honored guests for the festival.'  And they didn't even know we were coming!  Here is the family photo.

We didn't get all the relationships, but the white-saried lady is Mummy, the fellow in the lavender shirt (smiling/waving man) is the son and he has two sisters.  One of the sisters and her family is just about to move into their new house.  Her son announces proudly 'I have a new house.' And we must take the tour!   And, of course, have more Kerala drink.

Proud family outside new house.

Whoever built this did a fabulous job.  It is truly built to last and they are so proud to be able to show us every room!  Tim saying goodbye to this remarkable family and a truly touching encounter.  Check out the boy with the camera phone!  He must have taken 50 shots of us while we were there.  Imagine the story he will have to tell his friends!

Blanket up, Elephant Girl

All I want for Christmas is . . . my own elephant!!  Wednesday's incredibly excellent adventure was all about elephants.  Haksar arranged for us to go to the elephant-riding place early this morning (7:00 a.m.).  His perpetually smiling tuk tuk driver, Aisam, took us on a 30-minute death-defying ride which, I'm actually getting to like!  In fact, when he pulls off a particularly adrenalin-generating maneuver, I lean forward and give him a thumbs up sign. Tim says 'Don't encourage him' and added, somewhat sheepishly, 'I actually wish there was a seatbelt.'

Little did we know that we are in the midst of a 3-day festival celebrating Vishnu, a very important Hindu god, and this is really big for elephants.  We got to the ranch and one elephant was getting a lovely bath-

Next to him was a much bigger elephant, very restless, and we were warned, repeatedly, to stay away from him.  'Very fierce' 'Not nice'  OK - we're warned.

Time to saddle up and ride!  Here comes our very own elephant.

We climb the tower and get ready to mount up.  Yes, this is the view from the tower where we're waiting for our ride.  Her name is Lakshmi.

Did I say saddle up?  I should have said 'blanket up'.

Elephant girl up? (No shoes please.)

Now it's Tim's turn.

Wow!!  Is this ever amazing!  For one thing, elephants have very wide, very bony spinal columns.  Each step throws you from one side to the other on this bony fulcrum.  The first couple of steps and I'm convinced we're both going to slide off.  But a few steps in and we kind of get the hang of it; you know Tim and I can talk our way through just about anything and now we can add riding tandem on an elephant! Talk about a high!! What an incredible experience!!  And all for the grand total of 700INR or about $13.

We 'd learned from, Krishna, our waiter at Sea Splendour, that there's a big elephant parade later in the day as part of a temple festival just a couple of km away for our elephant ride.  This is the real thing, all Indians, no tourists as opposed to the festival near Sea Splendour which is 'for tourists.'

Aisam will come back for us at 3:30 and we'll go to the festival and elephant parade which starts at 4.  It looks like one of our elephants is heading there also.  See you at the festival!

A Mass in Malayalam

OK, it's Sunday and wherever we are we find at least one church to match our beliefs.  A quick internet search reveals a cathedral that appears to be reasonably close.  Our gracious host, Haksar, agrees to take us there in his tuk tuk.  First stop, an abandoned Catholic church.  Wrong one. Haksar enquires of several people on the street and we're off again, another 6km to St. Sebastian's.  Somehow we're there in time for the mass and, needless to say, the object of much discreet curiosity.  Several children approach us asking 'from where are you coming'?  It's crowded (maybe 500 people), all the women in gorgeous saris, the men in traditional dress, and the children in assorted finery (when do girls start wearing saris anyway?) Saris make all women beautiful. We're sitting just inside one of the side doors (all shoes off and outside) thinking we can make a quick getaway if this turns out to be a marathon service.

The musicians start tuning up, a priest, a deacon, and a couple of altar boys appear so something's about to happen.  The priest comes over to us and explains, in perfect English, that this is the Feast of St. Sebastian, and we will all go outside the main doors and then come back inside.  OK, we're in for that or about to be out.  Barefoot.  Everyone has candles and a woman next to me hands us two candles and offers hers for a light.  There's some sort of invocation, blessing, recitation of St.Sebastian's role in the early church - this is all speculation on our part.  We don't speak Malayalam (slurred in speech to 'Malayum'.  Gotcha - unless you've been to South India bet you've never heard of this language.  It is most unusual; we thought it was Hindi and were promptly corrected.

We all file back inside and amazingly we find the same seats, near the door and, more importantly, our shoes.  As with most church services anywhere, the order of things in remarkably similar.  And this is no different.  Then we get to the homily, given by what Tim tells me is the deacon.  It was a long one, filled with what we both felt was a lot of yelling.  Maybe it's a Malayalam thing. After about 20 minutes, Tim leans over and whispers 'Let's go.'

Photo of the cathedral (side door of our exit) and the street sign.

We've made out getaway but now we have no idea where we are or how to get back home!  Back to the main road and, miracle of miracles, a tuk tuk appears.  We carry the business card for our place which we show to the driver who proceeds to take us to Kerala Beach, not Oddayam Beach.  It's a lively spot so we get out and see what's happening there.  Photo of our tuk tuk ride.

We have a wander about, a lassi in a beach front cafe, buy some clothes from a booth run by a delightful Indian couple.  Two shirts and a pair of pants - 1350INR or about $21.

Realize that we can get 'home' by walking along the Varkala Cliffs - off we go!  Cliff path lined (on one side) with shops selling everything from travel services to on-the-spot, ready-made clothing (the owner sits there sewing and will get up to wait on you.

View from the cliffs.

Almost home - time for a cold beer on the beach front and watch the sun set over the Arabian Sea.  Interesting, beer is never shown on the menu; you have to ask the waiter.  He brings the bottle (Kingfisher is the beer here), pours it into what looks like a large creamer/small coffee pot (white porcelain - contents not visible), and then takes the bottle away.

More on locals, customs, tomorrow.