January 10, 2015 -- A Little more Fort Kochi

I guess I forgot to talk about a great restaurant we found -- front to the little lane, and back to the beach - open-air - called The Ginger House.

 

On the tables were little wooden signs stating "Today's Special - Ginger Ice cream" and  "Today' Special - Ginger Prawns."  How on earth could we not stay.  BTW, we had the ice cream first, while the prawns were being prepared.

 

Actual pieces of ginger root -- not candied

Rob and ginger prawns

Rob and Ginger ice cream

I decided to attach the book store picture to this supplement, because there was a bit of a story.  The driver knew we wanted a book store and what book we were looking for and he was aware that there was a good bookstore in Fort Kochi.  He enlisted the help of a youngish kid with very good English (should have set off our tout alarm) - in front of the basilica - to direct us to this store.

Rob at Indian "bookstore"

We drove where we had been told, with the youngish kid following behind on his scooter.  Of course, what awaited us was a handicraft store - NOT a bookstore - and the kid was a tout, hired to bring in tourists..

In good faith, thinking, "Well, MAYBE they have books here," we went on in and all the way to the back of the shop.  Gifts, gifts, gifts of all kinds, but no books.  Not even a book about books. The proprietor kept saying, "Books, yes, yes!  One minute! I will check!  Please just look around," as he headed for his phone.  We could clearly see that there had NEVER been any books there, so we cleared out, but I honestly think he was going to phone that bookstore which WE finally found and have that book sent over.

 

BTW, we are no longer in Hindi or Punjabi speaking territory.  Malayalam is spoken in Kerala, and the writing looks completely different.

 

Kerala sign

The number of languages spoken in India varies greatly on the web, but somewhere between 778 and 220 languages are spoken here - and look different on paper, obviously. 

 

If you all keep getting the same pictures, over and over, it's because I'm confused - and let's leave it at that.

 

Hansi

January 7 and 8, 2014 -- Kochi Synagogue, Basilica, and Crows

We drove to Kochi on Jan.7 and spent a fair amount of time in Jew Town.  (Yes, this is what it is called).  The oldest synagogue in Kochi (and India) is found here, as well as charming little winding lanes, lined with merchant after merchant, shop after shop – all hoping  (nay, begging) that you will "come inside and just look”. Aside from clothes – like kurtas, pants, sarongs – there were shops full of Indian handicrafts and many spice markets.  I did not see any just selling spices out of burlap bags in bulk (though there might have been) but I settled on a fragrant shop (not only the great smell of every kind of spice, but also essential oils wafting out) which purported to employ a collective of women from many villages to prepare and package these items, as well as make soaps and the beautiful fabrics and clothing for sale there.  Women were weaving on a huge loom near the back of the store.  This kind of co-op store (like we enjoyed in Delhi) has fixed prices which get passed back to the village women – and no haggling. 

The synagogue was very interesting.  It was built in 1568 though Jews existed in India long before that (and before the Christian era)  Jewish settlements in Malabar and Ceylon  were mentioned in the 1400s by a Venetian merchant though their history there goes back way further.

Synagogue Interior

Detail of synagogue floor

We had to take off shoes to enter, like  in every other place of worship here – Hindu, Muslim, Sikh and EVEN a Catholic church in Mohali – and then were treated to a very animated explanation of the history of the synagogue  by the female tour guide of a large group also inside.  Unfortunately, it was all in Hebrew.  But it SOUNDED very well-informed.

There is also a large, beautiful Basilica in Fort Kochi.  St Mary's Church of Kochi was built in 1676 and contains a famous picture of the Blessed Virgin Mary. This picture was installed here by Portuguese missionaries, who had brought it from their native land. It is believed to have some miraculous powers.  It is believed to have miraculously saved the lives of many from shipwrecks and storms.

Basilica interior

Basilica exterior

We wanted to track down a new bird book (like the one we gave our friend in Mohali) which covers the entire continent of India – not just the North, like our book.  Believe it or not, we found a good bookstore in Fort Kochi called Idiom, and even more unbelievable was that the vendor had plenty of THAT book and had just sold one to the British guy standing at the register.

I’m sitting outside of our room on the beach right now.  Meanwhile,  Rob – camera and tripod in hand -- is out somewhere by the water.  Will take a few pictures now. OK.  So I just did that, and here’s what happened.  I took a picture of the table, turned around, snapped a picture of the “yard” and then walked up the steps (it is like a stile) to the beach.  Photo snapped and back to table.  In that TINY AMOUNT of time, crows (there are many in the palms - and LOUD) had been onto this table, pecked and peeled some of the bananas, wiped banana goo onto the table cloth and departed, I guess, when they saw me coming back.

Beach in front -- Where's Waldo now?

Front of our room

View from the front of our place

WELL!  Lesson learned!  So I examined the damage and concluded that one half pecked, half peeled banana had to go but rather than throw it away, I carried it to outside the boundary of our “space,” set it down, came back to the table and sat down. By gum, that banana was GONE.  Mere feet away, behind my back, there was absolutely no sound of a crow having come for it, or even snagging it with a claw on a fly-by.  Now I want a crow.

AND an elephant.  A real Pet Elephant.

Hansi

January 9, 2015 -- The Massage

I was looking forward to my Ayurveda Massage. My only massage before this one was a wonderful experience at a lovely spa in St. John’s, Newfoundland with my daughter.  We were given fluffy terry robes, lemon water, and tranquil, meditating music played softly in the background.  The faint scent of some essential oil in the air was intoxicating and soothing….. Back to reality –

When Rob returned from HIS massage, I told you he was all greasy.  He told me only that he was given a diaperish thing to put on, but absolutely nothing more about the massage, which, if his experience was anything like mine, only meant that he dragged the whole memory of it into his cave, never to be talked about again.

My 8 o’clock appointment was postponed to 10 a.m. because my masseuse was stuck somewhere on a bus.  At 10, I presented myself, and followed her up to the top floor, through a door with a hanging sign which read, “Treatment in Progress.  Do not enter.”   She did not lock the door behind us.

I stood around on one foot then the other, sucking my teeth, while the masseuse, Saji, prepared her surroundings -- turned on the hot plate, put out towels, oil , iPod and then decked herself out in an oilcloth (this should have triggered a warning) apron.  Finally, she turned to me and said, “Take off your clothes.”

I think I squawked, “Right here?  Now?  All of them?” Yes, she nodded.

I thought, OK!  I am not a modest person, so how hard can this be?  I carefully took off my clothes, one by one, as she stood one foot away and continued to stare at me.  Lordy!  When I got to the underpants – “These too?” and she shook her head NO, I nearly wept with gratitude.  

“Sit here,” Saji indicated a backless bench and when I perched on it, she drizzled some dark oil on me and began a very thorough breast exam.  And arms, hands, feet, legs, back, belly, face and hair.  And if I weren’t already wretched enough, she peeled my undies down to bikini size, under my flubber .  Oh brother!

After 5 hours – I mean minutes – she told me, “Get on the table.”  I was a greased pig by that time, right down to my toes but I shussed my way over to the table and then tried to climb up onto the polished wooden surface.  I couldn’t get a grip with either oiled hand, nor purchase with the knees either which were slithering right and left.  Finally just slopped down in a heap and Saji had to sort out what was arms, what was legs.  On my back. With eyes tightly closed in an attempt to keep the stinging oil out of them.  Not working… Towel!  Quick!! My eyes are burning!

Massage Table

Massage Table

Well, she was not quick.  She slowly wiped off  her hands, (and then possibly went for a coffee) and then gave me a cloth for my eyes and forehead.  She was totally unfazed by this.
I knew that the oil Saji was using was very dark as I had seen her pouring it before I lost my sight.  Hoping for patchouli or sandlewood, what I got instead was an unpleasant mixture of coal tar and Lysol disinfectant.  Laid out as I was, blind and practically naked on the hard wooden table, I was a helpless cadaver.

Time for Saji to really go to work.  She turned on her music, not tranquil at all but a lively folk tune for guitar and zither - poured a cup of warm oil onto me, and then began The Washer Woman’s Lament on my body - top to bottom, again and again and again  - with the heels of her hands as though hoping to rid me of some evil spirit.  Every so often, I had to say, “Don’t do THAT”, when she was whacking my head all over with the ball of her hand,  or thrubbing my upper arm where I hurt it in a fall, or when she bent all my arthritic fingers double and then tried to crack the knuckles.. 

Then I had to turn over.  No mean feat,  let me tell you.  I was a hideous, greasy flounder.  Same routine on the back… and then I was done.  Now she wanted me to simply get off the table.  A mud wrestler climbing out of the pit.

She had me “rest” (how? I ask you), still naked , back on my backless bench, while she slowly folded up her towels, turned off the iPod, put away the oils, and then laboriously scrubbed down the table, once, then again before handing me my pile of clothes.  “Put them on.”  This gal had a real gift for the gab.

BUT I’M ALL GREASY, I squealed.   She gave me a towel to rub some of it off.  Dressed, I slithered back to my room.  I see that the black oil has toned down my pesky blond hi-lights to an ashy gray.  Hey, who doesn’t love a massage?

January 5-8, 2015 -- Two Things

Two things.

In the South of India, one sees many men wearing sarongs.  We noticed this to some degree south of Chennai, but it is VERY common here in Kerala.  A very practical garment, it can be worn long (more formal) or folded up more Gandhi style - like shorts.  Anyway, as we walked along the very rural road to bird-watch the other day, a businessman walked past with his computer case - on his way to work.  Seems incongruous to me.
 

Sarong with briefcase

Also, I keep seeing plants that are so impossibly coloured or shaped that I keep thinking "fake".  This red palm - all over the Lemon Tree property- is a good example - but don't worry, I have plenty of others. (I just heard a communal GROAN from you all...)  

Hansi

 

January 5-8, 2015 --Kochi

We left our hotel in Delhi at 11:15 a.m. (a few minutes away from the airport, for a 1:30 flight so JUST missed the SMS message from Air India that the flight was delayed an hour.  As it turned out, it was delayed 2 hours, and I think we finally left Delhi around 4 pm.  We had arranged with the hotel in Kochi to pick us up from the airport, so had to keep updating them on our whereabouts.

When we reached (as they say here) we emerged from the airport to a VERY humid, sticky hot evening and peered around to find our driver.  Thanks to the marvels of a cell phone, we learned he was, indeed, parked in front of the airport waiting for us, so loaded up our gear and soon we were heading out of Kochi (after two little stops for cold beer and an ATM).  This was very tropical weather, and nothing like the cool days and cold nights we had just left at Jim Corbett Park.

We got to the Lemon Tree in slightly under the 2-1/2 hours our driver predicted, and were pleased that the kitchen had been kept open for us.  Pan-fried, fresh caught fish (and chips).  Tiny little cup of julienne fries and good fish – not overcooked . Very glad for that beer stop too.  Turns out this resort doesn’t sell alcohol (though they tell you where to get it and also supply room fridges).



We were upgraded to a great room overlooking the lake and the swimming pool. The full moon was a big orange ball above the water outside our window as we walked into our still-dark room.   Turns out the sun comes up over the lake too, so we enjoyed a beautiful sunrise this morning.  Paradise Found.

View from our window

The room lit. says that this place is known for massages and other wellness treatments.  “100 years of legacy in Ayurveda Tradition deep-rooted through Generations.”  Rob has NEVER had a massage and I, only one.  So, we decided we should treat ourselves.  Turns out that there is only one table (though two masseur/masseuse so would have to go at separate times for a one-hour massage for Rs.1900 ( $40).

I went out and about with the binos while Rob got the full treatment this morning, and when he emerged, he was dripping and looked like he had spent a week in a steam cabinet.  Turned out to be oil all over him – not sweat, and they gave him special soap with which to shower. (To degrease, I guess).  I guess I will be Greasy McGee on Thursday morning after MY massage, before we check out and head for Alleppey.  I decided not to SPA Wednesday  morning as instead we are taking a car at 9 a.m. to Fort Kochi (the historic part of the city) for the day.  My cousin has given me some “must see” ideas.

After Rob’s massage, we booked a three-hour, covered boat ride to take us out into and around the lake.  We were supposed to head towards an island across from this resort, but never got there as we spent most of our time getting the driver to stop – back and fill –start again – again and again, just to photograph birds.  What a pleasant ride up through the canals – with wind in the hair, and delicious, cooler lake air.  Well, we saw two new kinds of bee-eater – the Blue-Tailed, and THEN, the Chestnut-headed bee-eater.   Also - a first-ever Jacana and Purple Swamp Hen.  This last is like our Purple Gallinule.

Hansi

Rob post massage on lake boat

Purple Swamp Hen

Bronze-winged jacana

Blue-tailed Bee-eater

 Will attach pix and conclude in another email.  Forgot to mention that we saw this Stork-billed Kingfisher from the dining room window.  A big guy - we hadn't seen before (or since drat) at 35 cm.

Stork-billed Kingfisher

January 1-3, 2015 -- In India

Happy New Year, Everyone!

New Year’s Day, we boarded the 3 o’clock Elephant to parts unknown. Our mahout (pronounced ma- hot) seemed to know the English words for many animals and birds and was good at spotting things, stopping Coleena (his elephant) whenever we wanted to take a photo,  or even backing her up if need be. 

It was just amazing to be sneaking through the underbrush atop our huge elephant, and yes, it DID seem like sneaking – because the spotted deer, sambar deer, tree full of langurs, and even a kingfisher that we passed by very close, appeared unware of us – or at least, not threatened by a common, garden-variety elephant. It was SO peaceful. Coleena would pause every now and again when she came upon a favourite plant or small tree, and use her trunk to strip off a large bunch of succulent leaves which she stuffed into her mouth – not caring much that Mahout was against it. One thing that was surprising to us was that Coleena could negotiate very narrow paths – as if she actually puts on foot in front of the other – or ALL feet in front of each other.  Hard to imagine how she could climb up out of the river on a two-foot wide dirt path without toppling over on one side or the other because of sheer bulk. Good at balancing. Made me think of Hannibal crossing the Alps with elephants. 

Spotted Deer

Langur

I want an elephant.

Today we awoke to gentle rain, which has become slightly heavier and does not look like it will be abating. So, we used some of the morning before breakfast to organize photos and get emails written. It seems to be warm enough to sit out on our veranda (in outerware, as the sun is not out to really heat things up) so we can actually get out without getting WET.  But, we do have our trusty collapsible umbrellas with us, so a walk out to the main road is a definite possibility for this afternoon. (We didn’t go.)

It rained the entire day, as it turned out. Poured until night, and then again during the night. Today, however, has been cloudy/sunny but no rain, so we had a chance to walk up the road for an ATM (yes, Folks, they’re EVERYWHERE!) some Kleenex, and to do some scouting.

We saw several  Grey Hornbills feeding in a tree, and the raucous sounds coming from another tree turned out not to be Hornbills (as we thought) but Peacocks.  We came across a good co-ed school on the main road – read the sign – fairly dilapidated – and waved to girls inside who wanted to say hello to us, but did NOT want to be caught in a photo. Public schools here, even the good schools, are in a very run-down condition by our standards. We take our modern or upgraded, well equipped, well-stocked places of learning for granted. Cute, cute kids inside, BTW.

School girls

Passed  a tiny little Doctor’s Office on the way to the ATM (Bank of India).

Doctor's Office

Here’s something–

Outside our abode is a stand of bamboo, and it totally looks like it came from the Dollar Store.

Granted, it IS tall, and I doubt the Dollar Store would have this size, but still . . .  The stalks appear to have been stained turmeric yellow, and painted with fine dark green lines of various thicknesses. They just look so FAKE!  Does all bamboo look like this?

"Dollar Store" Bamboo?

Tomorrow morning, we leave at 7 a.m. in a hired car for Delhi (250 km)  and to give you an example of road conditions here (and traffic as we approach Delhi) this trip will take a minimum of 6 hours. 

The following day, Monday, we fly to Kochi (or Cochin – if you still have the old Atlas).  If anything good happens on our way to Delhi, I shall report it.

January 3, 2015 -- Neighbourhood Industry

Well, I have gone on and on about the goods which a person can buy from vendors literally “pedaling” their wares on our street – from fruit, to veggies, to brooms, to plastic ware, to carpets and even nylon strapping – webbing used for lawn chairs but also used for daybeds here.  This webbing is in rolls of various widths, and rides behind the vendor on his bike rack – stacked, starting from biggest to smallest rolls, in a colourful pyramid.

Anyway, what I wanted to add was this – not only goods but services come to the homeowner this way.  I saw a fellow with cart attached to bike who had rods and a pole with a convex cup about 4 inches in diameter attached , and realized he was calling out that he was a plumber (the drains – with grate, thank God – under all sinks and on bathroom floors are 4 inch diameter).

Similarly, a young guy with an empty cart (except for a hoe) went calling past – a neighbour came to her gate and called him back – pointed to the edge of her - and our – driveways. Next thing I knew, he was digging up the broken tiling on either side of the driveways. Then he disappeared with his cart full of rubble –came back minutes later with the makings for cement, which he whomped up on the road in front of our house, and quickly paved the dug-out places. Service!

Cement Repair

Gardeners arrive on bikes with shears (to cut the grass) and other tools I guess, and I have told you about the car washers, who arrive early morning on a bike – with bucket and rag - to wash homeowners’ vehicles. 

The ironing wala has put up a lean-to around the corner -  attached to the wall of one of the houses. He has become the neighbourhood ironing guy. He picks up the ironing, and delivers it too. Homeowners don’t seem to mind at all that this rather unattractive shed has been built against their property. Every neighbourhood seems to have an ironer.  A very accepting culture.  I don’t think I would be overjoyed to find a structure nailed to MY house – even if I got free ironing.

Ironing Wala's Lean-to

BTW, my sister asked if the reason the pink rickshaw had canvas sides, was because it was for women who didn't want to be seen. The answer is No. Most rickshaws have snap-on flaps in winter to keep out some of the cold air.

We stopped at a fruit stand on our way to Corbett because we saw huge yellow somethings.  They turned out to be pomelos, which are called chakodra.

Chakodra or pomelo