A long week-end in Kerala, India

We have just returned from Kerala, India. Kerala is a narrow strip on the sw coast of India sandwiched between the Lakshadweep Sea and the Western Ghats (mtns.) Rice fields, mango and cashew trees and coconut palms dominate the landscape. In the native language, Kerala means land where the coconut trees grow. The Western Ghats have sheltered Kerala from mainland invaders but encouraged Keralans to welcome maritime contact with the outside world. In Cochin, there is still a small community descended from Jewish settlers who fled Palestine 2000 years ago. Christianity has also been in Kerala for as long as it has been in Europe. When the Portuguese arrived here 500 years ago they were surprised to find Christianity already established along the Malabar Coast and more than a little annoyed that these Christians had never heard of the Pope! (From the Lonely Planet)

People have been sailing to Kerala for at least 2000 years. They came in search of spices, sandalwood and ivory. Long before Vasco da Gama led the Portuguese to India, the Phoenicians, the Romans, the Arabs, and the Chinese had been here. Today the fishermen still use Chinese fishing nets that are cantilevered over the water. Watch for photo postings soon. The maharajas of the areas that make up the state of Kerala paid considerable attention to the provision of basic services and education. It was this early concern for public welfare that gave Keralans a head start and resulted in the post-independence state being one of the most progressive, literate and highly educated in India. One of Kerala’s other distinctions is that it was the first place in the world to freely elect a communist government in 1957. There is little doubt that the relatively equitable distribution of land and income, found rarely to the same degree elsewhere in India, is the direct result of successive communist governments. This policy of equity also applies to health and education. Infant mortality rate in Kerala is the lowest in India and the literacy rate is the highest. We did not encounter any beggars our fist day and only a few in the remaining time we were there. I saw someone sleeping on the street on the way to the airport this morning but in Mumbai I saw hundreds of people sleeping on the streets and entire families living on the streets. I never saw this in Kerala.

We arrived late at night and went to bed. The next morning we walked to the ferry and went over to Fort Cochin that is rich in history. This is a short 20-minute ride on the ferry. We hired a trishaw driver by the hour and were together for four hours. We had a map with points of interest and would point out things we wanted to see and he would drive us there but he also interjected sights he thought we would enjoy. He showed us a ‘ginger factory’. The term factory means commercial more than anything else. There were two workers spreading chalk over the ginger that was drying in the sun. I think if they don’t get some dreaded lung disease they will surely get cataracts from the white chalk dust and bright sunlight. We visited the Mattancherry Palace, built by the Portuguese in 1557 and presented to the Raja of Cochin as a gesture of goodwill and probably a means of securing trading privileges. The alternative name, the Dutch Palace resulted from the substantial renovations by the Dutch after 1663. This palace is most famous for the murals, depicting scenes from the Ramayana, Mahabharata and Puranic legends connected to Siva, Vishnu, Krishna, Kumara, and Durga (Hindu gods). Some of the scenes are erotic such as the one on the queen’s bedchamber where a cheerful Krishna using six hands and two feet engages in foreplay with eight happy milkmaids. What a guy.

We visited the Koder House Hotel. This was the home of the Jewish patriarch up until last year when he sold it. It is now a six-room boutique hotel where you can stay for $400-500 a night. Outta our price range. But we ate lunch here and got a tour of the enormous bedchambers, bathrooms and changing rooms. Quite a lovely setting with antique furnishings and carefully restored/preserved environment. It was built in 1808 and remained in the Koder family the entire time.

We saw where Vasco da Gama lived (never authenticated). The house was built in the first half of the 16th century. Then we saw the Santa Cruz Basilica. Built by the Portuguese, this church was elevated to a cathedral by the Pope in 1558. It was destroyed by the British then rebuilt in 1887. We also saw St Francis Church (it was Easter weekend remember) that was built in 1503 and considered the oldest church in India. Vasco da Gama was buried here in 1524 but later his remains were returned to Portugal.

We went to “Jew Town” where the oldest synagogue in India is. The original building was built in 1568 but later destroyed by shelling during a Portuguese raid in 1662. It was rebuilt two years later when the Dutch took over Fort Cochin. It has hand painted tiles brought from Canton in China in the mid 18th century by Ezekial Rahabi. Imagine our disappointment when we discovered the synagogue was closed for Passover. Bummer!

We also saw the Chinese fishing nets, huge nets suspended in the air and cantilevered over the water. Apparently at night they lower the nets into the water and use light (lanterns) to attract the fish then raise the nets. We did not get to see them in action unfortunately.

We were very hot and sweaty so took a ferry and another trishaw back to the hotel to shower and rest. That night we had a fabulous dinner at a Northern Indian restaurant right around the corner from our hotel.

On day two we booked a tour of the backwaters. This meant getting picked up at 8:30 in a cab and riding into the countryside. At ten about 15 of use climbed onto a boat to be poled (no motors) around the backwaters of the area. This was a six-hour trip. In mid morning we had a break. We were in a very narrow ditch and pulled over to a six family village and had a coconut break. This involved whacking off the top of a coconut and drinking the ‘water’ then cutting the coconut in half and having the meat scooped out and eating that. The boatmen used long steel knives and I about flipped out when I realized they were holding the coconut in one hand and using the other had to hold the knife to whack the coconut in half. I wonder how many boatmen suffered severe cuts learning this skill? The one house we saw in the village was made of thatch and about 8 x 12 feet. I wondered how dry they were as the previous night it had rained like crazy. Along the way, we saw egrets, ducks, water snakes, two beautiful kingfishers and numerous water lilies.

The mode of transportation in these parts is a small dugout canoe. We visited a lime factory. Here the villagers collect mussels from the river bed and boil them to extract the meat which they sell in the marketplace but the real money comes from the shells. The shells are brought by boat to the factory where they are laid over burning dried coconut husks. After they have burned the shells, they spray the ash with water and the residue is lime powder that is used in cement, plaster, white wash and those stripes we see on sports fields. They get 250 rupees for each 50-kilo bag. My guess is that’s a day’s wages in these parts. That would be about $6.25. One mussel egg produces over 25,000 mussels so they won’t be running out any time soon.

We also visited a coir factory. Coir is the fiber inside the coconut husk. It requires soaking in water for six-twelve months to loosen the fiber. The husks are removed and the fiber is spun into a thread using a bicycle wheel (think of a spinning wheel) to twist the fiber. Two women feed the thread and a third person spins the wheel. To make the fiber strong the two strands are twined together and you have a very strong thin rope at that point. For a thicker rope, you can twine these two strands together. It was fascinating to watch how easy they made it look. This is a woman’s industry and a company will provide al the mechanisms to produce the cord. No part of the coconut is wasted as the dried husk is used as fuel to burn the shells described above.

We ate lunch on an uninhabited island where two women had prepared a lovely vegetarian meal, served on a banana leaf. No plates. How organic. The bad news is there was a pile of empty plastic water bottles nearby from previous trips. All along the way we saw people washing their clothes in the river and beating them against rocks to get them clean. It makes me wonder how long clothes last with that kind of friction. After lunch everyone except four of us, got off the boat to go on a different tour. Four of us continued back to our point of origination and debarked around 4:00. There had been a motorcycle accident right in the village where we were waiting for our taxi to pick us up and return us to Ernakulam where we were staying. Apparently the cyclist had run right into a concrete pole with no helmet. He was bleeding from his head and obviously in shock when we saw him. A trishaw rushed in and the passenger picked him up and rushed him to the nearyby hospital. On our trip out to the village we shared the cab with a young Indian family. Two young children, five and three, rode up front with their mother, no seatbelts. At one point I realized the younger child was asleep on his mother’s lap, his head about three inches from the dashboard. Oy vey.

We came home and showered and rested and had yet another fabulous Indian (Kerala style) meal at the hotel next to ours. Yum.

On day three the travel desk wasn’t staffed so that limited our options. Not only was this Easter weekend, it is Passover and the Sinhala and Tamil New Year and something to do with Vishnu. So there was very little staff around the hotel. We had seen some wonderful hand hammered copper cups in the Northern Indian restaurant. I had inquired as to where we might buy some and was told to try the market so Saturday morning we headed out to the market. I had envisioned a large crafts market but it turned out to be a street with a zillion shops. We stopped in the stainless steel shops and the crafts shops but no one knew what we were talking about. These cups come from Northern India around Delhi apparently and we couldn’t find them in the market area so gave up.

Ron encouraged me to buy a sari so we went to the biggest sari shop in town. They had advertisements everywhere. It was three floors of saris. Where to start? There must have been at least 100 staff and I was directed to the third floor. Turns out that’s where the expensive saris are. You sit in a chair at a low counter and the staff pulls saris off the shelf and you start refining what you want. The first thing I told them was my price range. They immediately told me to move to another area. Guess they thought I was a rich American with no limits. Meet Tricia Bergman, The Frugal. So we looked at saris on racks then they moved me to another counter and we proceeded to look at saris. I told them the colors I wanted and in a short time I found one I loved. They got me out of the chair, had me come to the platform (sans shoes) where the staff are and proceeded to drape the sari so Ron and I could get the effect. It is lovely. As soon as I have the halter-top made, we will take photos to do show and tell. Saris are basically six meters of fabric that is draped and as I understand it you don’t have any sewing done to the fabric other than making the halter top. More on this as I learn about it. I have discovered that I can use Dilrukshi, one of my students at Shilpa, to do the sewing I need done. She is an exquisite seamstress so I am excited about creating some income for Shilpa and for her, not to mention having someone I can trust to do it right.

We then went to a vegetarian restaurant for lunch and had Northern Indian Thali (me) and Southern Indian Thali (Ron). Thali is served on a stainless steel plate with about five small stainless bowls each filled with a different food. Yum. Not as special as our evening meals but for $4.50 for the two of us, I’m not complaining. We repeated our pattern of shower and resting. Kerala is on the same latitude as Colombo so the weather was identical although it cooled off each evening with the rains. We returned to the hotel next door for our evening meal and walked around town on our last night. So the love affair with India continues.

I forgot to mention that Ron punched me in the nose in the morning of our first day and ended the day by throwing water on me at dinner. Let me explain. We were trying to figure out how to get to the ferry to go to Fort Cochin. He walked into a shop while I waited outside. He was asking for directions when he realized I had the map so he signaled for me to come into the shop. As I was walking up to him with the map he turned to the shop clerk and pointed his arm to the door and just as he did that I was by his side so in effect he punched me right in the nose. He was mortified and I was in pain. I turned on my heel and exited to deal with the pain and waited outside. That night when we were at dinner I was admiring the copper cups the restaurant used as water glasses. Ours had just been filled. Ron picked his up and turned it upside down so he could see the bottom and his water came rushing out, wetting my lap and half the table. I stood up to keep the water that was on the table off me and got the giggles. He was mortified and couldn’t believe he had done something so stupid. I managed to make light of it by telling him, ‘Well first you punch me in the nose and now you throw water on me’. It’s a good thing I think he walks on water because he can do no wrong as far as I am concerned. - TB

And I’m not even going to try and defend myself! Anything I say can and will-be used against me. - RB