Kerala

11.02.2009 - 04.03.2009

(Pictures to be filled in soon . . . .)

Wayanad

Our plan was to do a multi-day trek around the national park. When we informed the state tourist office representative of this he said, "it is not possible." It turns out the dry season puts the park at high risk for fires, so nobody is allowed to stay overnight in the park. He showed us numerous day treks we could go on instead. The first one we barely made it back alive! The "suitable for beginners" trek of the highest peak in Wayanad was very humbling indeed. Chembra Peak was a three-hour walk up a 45 degree incline, which we foolishly attempted mid-day. We took our first break after about 10 minutes. On our trek, we passed lower peaks that had been recently burned by careless smokers, showing us the reason for the camping ban. We also stopped at a heart-shaped lake where our guide showed us a baby turtle and some mountain fish.

Finally, beyond our expectations, we made it to the top!

Afterwards, our hospitable guide risked serious reprimand by taking us a short ways beyond the peak to see the edge of the jungle.

Unfortunately, we saw no sign of tigers. We later found a guide that more accurately referred to our trek as "mountaineering." Perhaps someone wrote it to keep our dignity in tact.

Our second trek was much shorter. It took us to a three-tiered waterfall, where Laura was almost eaten by a rock monster. Aaaaggghhhh!!!

Fortunately, Jason staved it off with his charming wit and gimpy moves.

Finally, our third outing took us to an island where Indians gather for leisurely rock-hopping and river-wading. Here's a photo of some of the locals crossing:

Though it wasn't as peaceful and remote as we had hoped, we had a good time with the locals. We came upon groups of Indian men singing together, and high school students squealing as they crossed the river fully clothed. Laura did NOT have as much fun trying to find a place to use the bathroom discreetly. Any sign of a white person moving in the forest, and people had to look!!!

Kochi

Perhaps the most memorable part of Kochi was the train ride over. It was a little tight:

We made the mistake of catching a train without reservations on a Sunday afternoon following a weekend of political rallies. Even when we thought we could fit no more in our car, five more people would try to shove in as they hung off the train. We were "lucky" enough to get a seat atop our packs five inches from the toilet. Three hours later, we got a seat. Fifteen minutes after that, we had arrived. Whew!

From Kochi, we took a 7-hour tour of the Keralan backwaters. The first half of the day was spent on a traditional rice barge that had been converted into a houseboat. We perused the larger waterways where men dug for mussels, and locals generally ignored us. We stopped at a local village to see some toddy (palm beer) tapping and various plants used to make ayurvedic medicines. It turns out ground-up mussel shells can be used for anything from paint to treatment for osteoporosis. The latter part of the tour took us by canoe through the narrower backwaters. We saw women spin coir matting from coconut fibers and men climb palm trees to knock down coconuts for us to drink from.

In our last days at Kochi, we managed to buy a computer to donate to AID India and a mobile phone. Ah, the luxury of electronics!

Varkala
Our tour of Kerala ended at one of our favorite places: Varkala. A small but touristy beach town, it was much quieter than Goa. By day, we sat on the beach gettin' our tans on and making use of the only waves we've seen in India by partaking in some totally extreme boogie-boarding. To set the tone of our stay, on the first day Jason pranced into the ocean with our new mobile phone in his pocket. (And we call our bearded dragon retarded!) Fortunately, our very good English friend (from Hampi Children's Trust) gave us her phone as a replacement since she was leaving soon. (Thanks, Katharine! You're the keenest gal in all of India!!!)

By night, it was on like Donkey Kong! We started by perusing the daily fish selections, which were displayed on ice in front of each restaurant.

For the outrageous sum of Rs 150 (about US $3), we ate grilled blue marlin, barracuda, or tuna with rice and salad. Sometime thereafter, we made our way to the Funky Art Cafe, to discover the night's entertainment. At times, we saw Bollywood dancers, a live band, or some hula-hooping, and if nothing else, the lively waiters danced to entice the crowd. Some Bollywood dancers:

According to one (rather sleazy) DJ, the music was spun from a mobile phone! It got so crazy one night that people were swinging from the bamboo beams above. One lunatic even sprained his ankle. (This person, of course, was Jason.) Not to be outdone, one of the waiters followed suit two days later.

After a rickshaw drive into town, two X-rays (for US $2 each!), and a new nickname of "Michael Jackson," Jason was happily hobbling around on crutches. This made him the most recognized person in Varkala.

One day Laura decided to check out the nearby Black Beach. It turned out to be a small strip of sand cluttered with beached fishing boats. On the upside she was invited to lunch by a nice Muslim family. They turned out to be such nice people that she drug Jason and his new crutches out to meet them. We were fed rice with a very small fish they caught and dried in the sun. Since the family's English was not particularly fluent, and we knew about three works in Malayalam, the girls decided to dress Laura appropriately Indian:

Given the language barrier the rest of our stay consisted of us taking pictures of them and being photographed ourselves. The ladies:

They proudly showed us their rickshaw and insisted we take a picture:

Then they wanted to take pictures of us, so we struck a pose:

In light of Jason's many recent mishaps, Laura was feeling a little left out in the pity department. So as we were awaiting the train to leave Varkala, she said, "Where's my camera?" We never got an answer to that question. Insult was added to injury when she went to file a police report--the police thought it was pretty funny that a little white girl was so upset about losing her property. Though the police were unsympathetic, our hotel managers gave us a free night's stay to search for the camera, and as many rickshaw drivers as we came across helped us look. Oh, well. Less stuff to carry! Jason's camera carried most of the photo gems anyway.