Time to go

The hot humid days have slipped by and now it's time to go.
Kochi has captivated us, with it's ramshackle tumble down warehouses, grand colonial residences, huge shady trees and vast expanses of open misty waterways with coconut palms shimmering in the hazy distance.

Room 208, with it's bougainvillaea shaded terrace, watching butterflies dance through the huge mango tree has become like home.
We have grazed round the cafes and watched the world go by. Teenagers playing cricket on a patch of green. Tourists playing follow my leader, not even noticing the painted rocks on the beach. Travellers escaping a past life or at crossroads or simply like us taking time out.
We have enjoyed staying longer in less places, meeting local artists and transient foreigners, young and old with different stories to tell. I for one remembered that I can't cross Indian roads, and the realisation that now my thighs won't lift me up from a squat loo!

Tuk Tuk Tours

After much debate we decided against a highly expensive taxi to a waterfall and elephant camp. Instead we headed off to the Kochi flower show only to find it 'wasn't ready' so we negotiated with the rickshaw driver to take us south down the beach road for an hour.
We were soon out of town, the sea on our left and the road was sprinkled with the odd tiny church and dwelling. We stopped at a vibrant orange temple, where the morning puja was in progress, just three men offering food to a small white statue of an elephant.
Wanting a last glimpse of unpolluted sea we asked him to turn off the road down to the beach where a couple of fishermen were watching the world go by, fish too small to catch at this time of year.
One of the fishermen shyly beckoned us back to his tiny shack to meet his family where we were offered chai. We chatted in sign language, and then he gave us a bottle of holy oil from St Alphonsa who I later discovered is the first Indian saint, buried in Bharananganam church which is over 1000 years old.
The tuk tuk driver stood patiently waiting for us at the end of the lane, our hour well over, and we continued on to see wild backwaters, so still and quiet, with great expanses of open water.
An amazing alternative day trip, and the driver persuaded us to go with him at dusk to a Shiva temple festival with 15 elephants!

Chance encounters

Some of you may remember I had to go to Portugal to get my sarong, and one morning I bumped into some friends in Pingo Doce, the local supermarket. I was amazed when they said they were going to India on 27th, which I assumed to be February 27th, the day we leave. What a surprise to get a comment on Facebook when we were in Varkala saying they were staying there too on South Cliff!
We shared momo in a Tibetan restaurant,and then a few days ago they arrived ahead of the strike in Kochi. We have bumped into each other everyday, and spent last night at Hotel Seagull on the waterfront watching the sun go down and then temple fireworks from a distant island.

One of the fascinations of this kind of trip is the variety of people you meet. Young people who have been doing internships in education and engineering, a down to earth couple our age from Rawtenstall who avoid heating bills by renting a flat in Goa for two months, leave their summer clothes in a box, and then travel for a third.
All the crew at the Biennale were amazing, from the director down to the volunteers like Edwin who has given up his lucrative techno job in Bangalore for three months, and Jayesh the events guy who recognised Charlie from Facebook. Derik, another FB friend of CH even came over from Ernakulum to meet us.
In Varkala the Canadian photographer in the room next door had met the reclusive fruit farmer from Salt Spring island off Vancouver we had got to know in Kochi, and turns out he was a famous rock star from the 80's!

Ghost towns

We loved the Dreamcatcher homestay, with it's twinkling stars on the ceiling. This was despite the idiosyncratic owner, a huge semi naked man who ruled the roost from his sofa, summoning you to sit down on his ancient antique furniture, then whisking you away with his hand when the next guest appeared in the living come dining room where breakfast was served.
A general transport strike throughout all India for two days has meant no traffic on the roads at all, it is so quiet, not even a tuk-tuk in sight, so we had to walk with our rucksacks to our current lodgings, though Big Bernard did deliver Charlie's reclaimed billboards on his bike!
Here we have a lovely terrace with shade to laze about on as temperatures are soaring to 38C each day, and an extra little room for a studio!
This afternoon we sat at the juice bar near the Chinese nets, drinking mosambi and watermelon juice, looking over the water to Vypin island and there was not a boat in sight, where usually there are huge cargo ships, ferries and little fishing boats jostling for space.

We have continued to soak up the Kochi Muziris biennalle.
Muziris was an ancient city, which was thought to have been washed away in 1341. It was the essence of the cultural mix that is still Kochi, with it's history of Roman, Greek, Chinese, Jewish and Arab trading...then it simply disappeared. Now it has become an almost mythical port.
Many of the artists have based their work on narrative ideas of memory, displacement, and the sea.
Vivan Sundaram has recreated the forgotten city in clay shards, Ranbir Kaleka presents videos of a disappearing island, and Aman Mojadidi excavates an imaginary home of his ancestor.

http://kochimuzirisbiennale.org/

Back in town

We are now back in Fort Kochi...it feels good to return and we are settling into a quirky Portuguese home stay after two nights in a backpacker hostel in the centre of town...an insight into the travelling youth of today! Talking loudly...planning trains ...where next ...it all sounds like a tick list...heads buried in iPads....phones and laptops...virtually no conversation in a virtual world.
We took the ferry across to Ernakulum to visit the recently restored Durbar Hall, the ultimate venue of the Kochi Muziris biennalle and were bowled over by an incredible installation 'Fin de silencio' by Carlos Garaicoa.
Afterwards a friendly tuk tuk driver took us south to the Kerala Folklore museum, an architectural collage of different old palaces stuffed full of antiquities. Fascinating! On our way back he took us to visit the Dhobi Khana ( wash house) with fields of washing as far as the eye could see, and then a ginger factory in the spice town of Mattancherry.
After at last finding an Internet cafe where the power doesn't go down every five minutes we went for dinner at the Seagull Hotel, where we were amazed to see the director of the biennalle and several of the exhibiting artists deep in conversation, so naturally Charlie went over to speak with them! Worldwide artists networking!

http://www.factum-arte.com/eng/artistas/garaicoa/fin_de_silencio.asp

Backwater bliss

So glad we decided to do this, so different from the ferry! The canoe was more like a gondola, and when the guy said we would have to go out for 8 hours to see the narrower canals we quickly opted for the outboard motor option in half the time!
Not that he used it much, we glid gently along...it was so peaceful in contrast to the chug chug chug and diesel fumes of our ferry day out.

Venice of the east

I've slept on a roof many times but never under tin roof in a bamboo hut with cable TV!
We are now in Alappuzha, the so called Venice of the east. Pancakes stuffed with freshly grated coconut for breakfast...Shrove Tuesday though I didn't realise! We can't decide about how to explore the backwaters.
I had already cancelled our 24 hour house boat after talking to other travellers and delving into the travel sites. These luxury craft can only sail up the main canals and I want to explore the little narrow backwaters.
So for the first day we jumped on a public ferry going south to a little village, the boat criss crossing the canal to pick up and drop off and then a short cut across a lake shimmering in the heat. Little brightly coloured houses line the canal, everyone going about their daily tasks, and behind the houses vibrant green paddy fields stretching for miles.
We got off at Nedamudi, and gingerly entered a tiny restaurant, pointed at a plate of food and were served a most delicious Thali. The next boat was going north to an isolated lake, and back, so we took that and in the end spent more than five hours travelling the backwaters, chatting to passengers and providing entertainment for tiny school kids in the afternoon when the boat turned into a school bus picking up from local waterside schools. Then at each jetty some jumped off and ran home along the paths or jumped on the back of bikes. Not a parent in sight!
So in all our day cost 200 rupees instead of 6000...we won't know how our experience differed to a day on a houseboat, though we passed many on the channels, and now we are waiting for our canoe boat skipper to collect us!

In a while crocodile

A day of complete contrast...up at the crack of dawn again to the sound of chanting and deafening fire crackers on the beach. The real Varkala is a holy place where Hindus come to honour their dear departed by offering puja on the beach.
We walked up to the Sri Janardhana Temple where we saw a huge banyan tree hung with little plastic baby dolls. Reminds me of a similar puja I made in Tamil Nadu three years ago with a clay babies and little wooden cot and look what happened!
Waffles and herby scrambled eggs for breakfast followed shortly after by fried momo for lunch...this is a place where you could just cruise from cafe to cafe listening to ambient music and filling your face!
After lunch we clambered on to a sweltering hot bus and headed north to an elephant temple
festival.
What fabulous creatures all decked out in gold and bowing their trunks to the temple door. The procession of at least nine elephants was interspersed with manic carnival like action trucks blaring out stories maybe from the Ramayana, couldn't understand a word!
The streets were lined with families in their Sunday best and everyone was so friendly wanting their photos taken and waving...us tourists almost felt like we were part of the spectacle!
Late back to Varkala filthy and sweaty we ate at an Indian faulty towers joint where I had prawns followed by a dollop of bird shit shot from the tree above our beach top table. Then the ageing patron calculated our bill wrong x 3 times, but I was rewarded with three free tiger prawns in compensation!
Our last day at Varkala was chilled even at 37C ...I swam in the Arabian sea and we met friends from Portugal for more momo ... a very lazy late lunch.

Varkala

Make our first train journey to Varkala, air conditioned chair class...it's almost chilly! A constant steam of guys carrying trays of snacks on their head down the carriage, calling chai chai coffee coffee when they follow with piping hot urns of sweet liquid!
Varkala is perched on a cliff top, Tibetan trinket shops clinging all along a ramshakle redbrick pathway that is the main promenade. It's an hippyesque tourist resort, full of young and old practising yoga and looking for Ayurvedic health retreats.
Unable to sleep, we set off for an early morning walk along the cliffs in the pitch black with a big torch borrowed from the hotel. We reached a little inlet just as a soft grey dawn was emerging, to watch a sturdy group of fishermen trying to man handle their boat into the water. Further on there is a multi coloured mosque right by the beach. By the time we walked back the fishermen had swum back to the beach and were pulling the huge circular net and boat back with the catch all hands to the rope like a tug of war.
Breakfast of pancakes and mushroom omlette at the Coffee Temple cafe run by an ageing Englishman ( well our age probably!) who looked like he should really be living in the home counties not southern India, but later saw him on a huge Enfield.
By rickshaw we went to another fishing village, a deserted black sandy beach that burned your feet and I hitched up my dress Indian style and paddled ...warm warm water so different to Portugal! Later I braved the climb down the rickety crumbling stone steps to the main beach, but the red flag was up so couldn't swim. Apparently the currents here make it one of the most dangerous beaches in Kerala.
In all...a lovely lazy day, we watched sun go down from the Juice Shack roof terrace...an amazing ruby red globe then suddenly it disappearedinto the haze above the horizon.

Origins

Today we visited the church of St.Francis, probably the first European church in India, where Vasco de Gama was buried in 1524 until his remains were shipped back to Lisbon 14 years later.
After ginger tea in a cafe at the back of a sleepy antique emporium overlooking the sea, we explored Jew Town, and the beautiful synagogue built in 1568. The floor is laid with Chinese willow pattern tiles and ornate chandeliers drip from the ceiling.
The mix of religions here is what makes Kerala so different from our temple travels in Tamil Nadu.
More art of course in yet more crumbling mansions and bungalows, followed by the cheapest boat ride ever across the water to Ernakulum... it's making us wonder if it's worth spending £70 on an overnight backwater trip when our fare today was 5 rupees ( six pence ) return!

dolphin @ dusk

Two long flights, delays, but free wifi in Abu Dhabi!
The only Europeans on our flight to Kochi appeared to be heading for Best Marigold Exotic Hotel or similar! We are in fact at Greenwoods Bethlehem homestay, set in a lush tropical garden, away from the bustle of Fort Kochi.
We were welcomed at 5am by Sheeba, and tried to sleep, but there seem to be an amazing variety of birds living in the garden as well. Woke 5 hours later for breakfast served on the roof terrace, where black crows were swooping down to eat hard boiled eggs that earlier guests hadn't managed...later discovered that these crows are like seagull imposters, circling like vultures all along the beach.

Fort Kochi is crumbling, beautiful buildings tumbling down all around, but what a fabulous hot, humid location for the first art biennale in India.
Aspinwall House is the main venue showing the work of over 40 artists from all over the world. This huge sea facing building was from around 1867the business premises for the English trading company of Aspinwall and Co, dealing in coconut oil, pepper, timber, lemongrass oil, ginger, and later coir, coffee, tea and rubber.
More artists are in the Pepper House, a historic ' godown ' meaning dockside warehouse. Black Gold...the spice trade is everywhere...even an interactive sculpture that played music when you threw a handful of spice onto it!

Exhausted by art, we went to a juice bar to watch the sun set behind the Chinese fishing nets...here huge tankers and tiny canoes ply up and down the inlet all day...and then a dolphin arching it's back out of the calm waters.

We're off

Coffee, croissants and moustaches @ MAN!