Tales of a land of old…

Today we got on the train to Trivandrum to see my dad’s extended family. Public transport is really cheap here and we thought we’d take our chances with $1.15 train tickets. Apparently 4.5 hours in a slightly cramped, hot rail car gets pretty uncomfortable. We’ll probably upgrade considering air-conditioned cars with more room are only $11.50. First world problems. My parents and grandparents and probably a few generations before them grew up on these trains. My dad rode his first one 41 days after he was born. Back then the coal-powered engines threw plumes of smoke into the passenger cars in their wake. You wore your particularly shitty train clothes for the ride cuz when you arrived, you and your clothes emerged a few shades darker that when you hopped on. Things have improved a lot since then… but I’ll still take the AC car. The view was pretty nice though; the usual endless coconut trees but cut short this time by the Kerala coastline in the distance.

When we arrived, we all piled in an Innova, enjoyed the blast of cool air and headed to my Grandma’s oldest brother’s house. The place was the archetype of a traditional Indian home. Despite the brick and concrete structure the home has an airy feel with doors and windows on every wall. There aren’t really any doors, more just openings in the wall and the windows are just large iron skeletons with no glass to stop the air as it slowly lulls through the house. The rooms all fall around and feed into one larger space at the heart of the home. It all came complete with a cute grampa and grandma.

He may be cute and delicate now but my grandma’s older brother was a handsome motherfucker back in the day. The walls of the central room were adorned only with a few ancient black and white framed photos. There was one picture of the couple from each of the weddings in the family and graduation pictures from those siblings that had went into higher studies. Framing the doorway on each side were two imposing portraits of each of my great-grandparents. If you couldn’t tell from the home itself, the framed photographs made it clear that you wouldn’t find a single album in the house. You probably wouldn’t even find another photograph. It was so simple and so marvelous. And probably left much greater an impression than the hundreds of photos on my facebook page ever will.

The whole place was a bit of a step into the past. After drinking a bit of salted buttermilk and chatting, we walked around the land behind the home. Many of my dad’s relatives live on relics of once large farms. Though few remain as the vast plots they once were, each is almost sure to contain a great assortment of plants we’ve eaten but never thought we would see. In that home and the ones that followed, I came across papaya, pineapple, tapioca, guava, turmeric, ginger, pepper, coffee and other herbs in addition to the usual abundance of jackfruit, bananas and coconuts. All just casually sitting behind homes amongst the rubber trees and flowers. I probably even missed a few. I should make particular note of the bananas. Every time I come to India I remember that the banana world consists of far more than the usual single option we find at the store. Here the word banana is almost as ambiguous as pop. Every home we went to seemed to add another “banana” to the endless listing of red, green, yellow, small, large, varying textured fruits we through into a single category. Each tastes the same fundamentally but differs in some subtle way that’s worth trying, even the 20^th time around. Moral of the story is, bananas at home suck.

I got on a bit of a vegetation tangent but most of the day was just spent roaming from house to house seeing tons of relatives. Many don’t mean much to me but each is some uncle, aunt or cousin of my dad’s and somehow he’s gone to war and lost a limb with each and every one of them. The occasional entertaining tidbit from 40 years ago was worth the day of mostly just quietly listening and trying to understand hours of stories in Malayalam. I did learn a lot about zoology from my 15 year old cousin sister who’s obsessed with animals and in about the same boat I am with these house-visits. That was my day and probably what tomorrow will be like.

One more quick story. We drove by Hanuman’s hill today. Probably the greatest story in Hindu tradition is the Ramayana. Growing up you hear it a hundred times, watch several TV adaptations of it and probably end up at some point wishing you could be one of the characters. It’s a long story but it all culminates with a battle with an evil demon king on Sri Lanka. As valiant men fall including Rama’s brother, an herb that grows only in the Himalayas becomes essential. The story goes that the mythological hero Hanuman flew to the Himalayas, found the herb and brought the whole hill he found it on back to Sri Lanka. Of course, Rama goes on to win the battle and save his queen but the imperative mountain, rumor has it, was dropped off by Hanuman along the Indian coast in Kerala. Hopefully the tiny snippet and context can sort of convey why a hill we drove by was so exciting and worth mentioning. Kind of like passing by the pumpkin carriage that took Cinderella to the ball. For a second, you wish all over again that you could’ve been a part of the Ramayana.

Another day and a half left in Trivandrum. A lot of family and fun to be expected.

A heads up for the hungry traveler

I told Micah about the woes of sickness from last week and he asked if there were any ways to discern if a restaurant is safe to eat at. So here are a few tips to avoiding sickness in India.

• Always ask for a bottled mineral water. Drinking water is the easiest way to get sick and unless you’re at home, you can’t be sure the water you’re served was boiled twice before making its way to the table.
• Don’t eat much meat. Power outages are very frequent here, even routine for certain times of day in some municipalities. Not all restaurant managers can be held in good faith to have kept meat cold every time the power went out. The half hour power outage we suffered through in stifling heat last night, could have meant chicken going bad in a fridge out there before some poor guy eats it today.
• Eat at restaurants in hotels. Many nice hotels come with an attached decent restaurant. The quality of a hotel lobby and the building are easy indicators of the eatery so you can easily find a good one. Plus hotels need generators, which improves your chances against the previous point about meat/perishable good issues.
• Just try to find somewhere nice. Unless you’re dining at a Michelin rated establishment, even a city’s nicest restaurants are usually going to cost you a lot less than $10 a head when you order dishes for a group. You’ll get good food, air conditioning and probably avoid an upset stomach.
• Don’t go to Subway. Despite putting up a posh appearance and offering a “Western” dining experience, Subway is what ended up getting me. Guess it serves me right for getting Subway even once in India.
• Ask around, places with good reputations are safer. If that wasn’t obvious.

My many days of catatonic bed-ridden sadness punctuated only by vomiting stints are an indication that this is either crappy advice, or the result of a lot of experience. Not sure but to be safe, just minimize eating out if you can.

As for life updates, yesterday we took a city bus out to Marine Drive near the port. The clustering of shops, large markets, seaside view and bustling port are probably worth many pictures and a good story but I’ve seen it all so many times that I don’t know what to say. We went to Marine Drive every few weekends when we lived here and it’s still cool but quite familiar. The evening did end with some delicious biriyani and parota chicken from Kaye’s. Don’t worry, we’ve eaten there many times before and followed all the aforementioned expert tips :)

The Cochin Life

About a couple of hours ago, everyone was lounging about the living room in their assorted ways and talking. My dad was across the floor, an uncle on a couch, my cousin curled up on a chair and so on. Their well configured positioning was both a matter of function, to maximize potential relaxation, and an effort to comfortably fit 8 people in a pretty small space. Everyone looked like they were about to drift to sleep but no one would. It’s kind of like the slow, sporadic conversation you have with your roommate at 1 AM when you’re tired but each of you is ok with just laying there and talking. It was all very fitting of the usual hot, muggy afternoon in Cochin.

During the little more than two hours that followed I went through the usual routine. I nearly sweated out my body weight on a quick 2-mile run. Did some pushups and a few other strength exercises. Took a long cold shower. Hand washed the past few days’ clothes and put them on the clothesline to dry. And ate a quick lunch. At the end of it all, everyone was still in the same spot, talking the same way they had been as if the two hours were nothing more than a moment’s passing thought. My grampa was drifting to sleep and that had the potential of snowballing to the group but nothing had really changed.

It’s all a long way of saying everyone was around the front room talking but that’s a pretty accurate snapshot of life in Cochin. There’s not much to say about everything that was said but it’s nice. Infuriating at times, but nice (suggested serving: taken in portions and with a grain of salt).

PS Learned how to de-husk, crack and grate a coconut

PS I found my way to Polonica’s for a haircut and bought shampoo, which feels wonderful. I even managed to avoid the usual comb over you get at the end of the haircut.

Sick

So a new record, sick less than a week into the trip. I puked 4 times and oddly, have a sore throat. In my defense, this bug claimed by uncle too so it isn’t just my weak American stomach as everyone says. I’ve been down for the count most of the past day and a half, which wasn’t too bad since it’s mostly been more scenic but precarious driving and hotel stays. In fact, access to nice air-conditioned rooms has probably helped speed this sickness up.

I’ve discovered that tonic with lime and salt works wonders. Also American sick food sucks. I never really believed in chicken noodle soup; it’s too salty, oily, and generally leaves my throat and stomach worse off than before I made the mistake of eating it. A good hot and sour soup or steaming rasam on the other hand will are guaranteed to make you feel better. Chinese or spicy Indian foods are the way to go. We’re on our way back to Cochin and hopefully I’ll be up and running by tonight or tomorrow J

PS I want some Cake Boss cake and A$AP Rocky or my Rap God Pandora station. Cuz spoiled.

Updates from Kodaikanal

I’m probably going to do many brief update posts this trip since most days have a few adventures, even if not a day long story. Plus I’m lazy.

I went for a run this morning and nearly got lost which can be less than ideal in a crowded unfamiliar town where you can barely understand the language. Aside from that hiccup, the run was great. The weather this high up is cooler than I could ever hope for elsewhere in India and the elevation presents a bit of a nice challenge on the lungs.

We went to Suicide point and a few other vantage points at the edge of some of the hills. After hiking through the woods alongside monkeys for a bit, we found steep drop offs, the bottoms of which we couldn’t even see through the clouds below. Despite every view only being a variation or different perspective on the landscape we’ve experienced since yesterday, it’s incredible every time.

Driving was fun again, if you can’t tell I really enjoy the travel and will probably ramble about it a lot. There’s something rather cozy and exciting about bumping along Indian streets through torrential downpours. So many people are so used to the rain that despite monsoons being vomited from the skies, people keep walking through the streets in crowds going about their business. Only now, the mass of people and cars are trying to get to their destinations a little quicker and while avoiding the rivers winding through the streets. It’s all one big chaotic, exciting mess. On an aside we’ve now encountered two note-worthy road blocks since our arrival. First a fight that broke out between two cars in front of us, whose ensuing mini mob was entertaining, a tad scary and only managed to cause a half-hour delay for a lot of vehicles. Second, we ran into some marriage related festivities. Over a hundred people proceeded through the street dancing, playing drums, carrying idols and carrying out various other traditions. 

The first of many driving tales…

Today’s been a day of driving as we’ve made our way to Kodaikanal, a hill station in the Western Ghats. 12 of us piled into a minibus sized van this morning which meant the 9 hour drive was going to be loud and more than a little crazy. A couple of hours outside Cochin, you begin to feel the elevation shift and soon after you’re careening through winding steep roads in the foothills of the Western Ghats.

Driving in India is usually an adventure but today’s drive had me questioning how long I had to live with every bump and turn. They say that you can approximate a person’s lifespan using demographic factors like country of birth, fitness, smoking habits etc. They forgot a box to check off whether you’ve been driving in India. I should give credit to our driver; dodging a car by inches is normally dumb-luck, but that can’t be the case when you do it every 5 minutes. His ability didn’t change the fact that traffic ranging from bikes to large busses were all competing to traverse these roads with rapidly changing steep elevation that were about 1.5 lanes wide at best. To improve matters, I sat in the front seat, which wasn’t anchored down and could fold over to let people into the minibus. It was always reassuring to see the driver put on his belt during particularly precarious moments, as I would reach over and be reminded I had no belt. Auto rickshaws are usually the craziest driving but they’ve officially been dethroned by the wild, mountain climbing minibus.

All the perils of the road were more than made up for by the view during our journey. The Western Ghats aren’t a tall mountain range, so from foot to peak they remain in an elevation range that can still sustain lush vegetation. Even as we achieved a few kilometers of elevation, dense greenery covered the slopes which spanned as far as the eye could see. Clouds rolling through blanketed entire hillsides with fog affording only an almost impressionist style blurred, smoky view of the mountains. Occasionally one would pass and you’d have a clear if brief glimpse at a river, thin waterfall or occasional cottage.

As we approached Munnar, the forestry was replaced by thin lines of tea bushes forming a horizontal grid over miles of slopes. Their ranks were spotted with occasional workers plucking the tea leaves. From time to time we would drive by a group of workers harvesting leaves and it was a wonder they could remain standing let alone working with their massive back-sacks of leaves on the steep ground. I’d like to go back and visit Munnar and its tea covered slopes again someday.

We had a few other mini-adventures during the drive. Apparently we passed through the home region of Veerappan, the Al Capone of Southern India. He was an infamous businessman who surrounded himself with men who “took care of business” and used violence to wield influence from the safety of the mountains. We stopped for two kinds of mangos along the way, and they were amazing (we’re not even in Andhra Pradesh yet). Hunting for food our temperamental American stomachs can handle is always fun. I’m finally starting to pick up some Malayalam.

Herro der! It’s been a while

Herro so after a long hiatus, here’re the next round of travel adventures. I will probably sound a little dysfunctional at this point as I sit killing time in the Delhi airport before my final connection to Kochi with 15ish hours of movies, no sleep and the sedentary life of flying wearing me down.

So movies were a big part of my fly time as usual. I’ll drone about those as an appendage to this post.

I’ve become more keenly aware that being a solitary hard ass who listens to music from after security till baggage claim during travel is not actually that cool. Making friends is a much better alternative. Swiss guy whose name I can’t spell or say and occupied 1.25 seats was actually a rather nice man who falls asleep during car rides causing much boredom for his wife. His best friend at home is named Sanjay. Julia goes to Purdue and is studying at the base of Grape Mountain near Venice this semester. And best of all was Chris. He flies to Switzerland a lot and had a baby during his senior year. He gave up being an architect for two part time jobs while studying as an apprentice in some factory. A few decades later he manages North American operations for some robotics company, travels, has ridden a bike around the Swiss Alps, and all-in-all is doing fairly well for himself. That’s Chris. Really hope I run into him again flying somewhere someday.

Also I should mention Switzerland. The view landing and taking off seemed to offer a snapshot of the kind of place I’m visiting. Iowa is a checkered mass of large square fields. Johannesburg had distinctive rows and blocks of housing districts. Indian cities aren’t very tall but extend sometimes beyond the horizon, even when looking from as high as just below the cloud cover. Zurich was beautiful. Even as we approached the city and airport, the landscape held only medium cottage like houses with imprecise patterned small pastures that formed a green mosaic across the land. It was a nice change from urban centers or clean, geometric farms. And the Alps were incredible. They stretched for ages, and I cant even do justice to the view. It would be nice to live on one of the foothills for a few months someday, hiking or skiing on the incredible mountains I saw.

So yea those are my unnecessarily, sleep induced ramblings on the first 24ish hours since I left for this India Europe adventure thingamajig. The travel bug is gnawing its way through, as might be apparent… I’m pretty excited for the next two months.

PS *Warning* Useless movie rambling to follow: So Wolf of Wall Street is quite the graphic movie… like incredibly graphic. Like 3 hours of constant swearing and nudity graphic. Twas a tad beyond my taste but still pretty entertaining. On the other end of the spectrum, I watched Captain Phillips which told the 2009 story of a US freighter being boarded by Somalian pirates. It was really good and seemed to portray both sides of the story, though I make that judgment with no real basis other than the sympathy I felt for some of the pirates at the end. The only annoying point was they included one aggressive pirate who was a fuck and the reason every controlled situation disintegrated to shit, as happens in too many movies. Million Dollar Baby, 12 Years a Slave and The Town were worth. Anchorman 2 managed to sedate me unfortunately. So those are the movie rambles.

PSS I like plane food! And dericious Swiss airport mozzarella and prosciutto sandwiches

PSSS A guard nearby has a golden retriever. The need to pet is so immense.

PSSSS Want to run.

The end.