February 4th/5th

February 4th/ 5th in Fort Kochi; discovering that arty bullshit is an international language; that the shops which promise 'Hassle-free' are the worst; and that French tourists can be exceedingly ill-mannered!

A farewell to our lovely Anil and Sanjay in the beach Homestay, after a last evening in which an enormous feast was put on for us by your man Rajesh. The Homestay manager Joseph Sam had appeared during our last day and had evidently been chivvying the staff something rotten. We felt this was most unnecessary as they have been so kind and helpful to us, but we were witnessing a fairly typical Indian pecking order display here I think. Managers here don't seem to go in for encouragement, more for haranguing and shouting.( See previous blog!) Yet any bookshop here will be rammed with Management books advocating a very different approach. As we say many times a day, 'I guess it's just cultural' and pecking order is so deeply enshrined in all aspects of Indian culture.

Time anyway for us to move on, an hour up the coast, to Fort Kochi, which is the historic part of Kochi, a very old port. We arrived to find that our accommodation in Bernard's Bungalow was just delightful. 

We are right opposite the old parade ground from the days of the Raj, now a sportsfield much used for cricket and football games.

 We are on the corner with Lilly St!

Fort Kochi is in the middle of hosting a six month long Biennale Art exhibition, which is held across lots of venues of different sizes. Our first port of call was a small gallery across the road from us, the David Hill gallery (which Rajesh tells us is owned by the Marari Beach Resort people) and here we found a super cafe in the garden which would not have been out of place in Australia, ie clean, airy, with pizza on offer and ( Andy's choice) a fig and orange salad. Met the first of many interesting tourist groups ( a quartet from Australia) who are here visiting, like us, in Fort Kochi, which clearly is firmly on the tourist trail. Subsequently we set off in an autorickshaw to the largest venue, in Aspinwall House, a huge left-over from the Raj which is on the waterfront. This had a large number of exhibits only some of which spoke to us and some of which, in Andy's words, seemed a bit of a 'load of old bo**ocks', and had arty-farty speak to go with them as explanations. It did have an Anish Kapoor installation, which I found extremely powerful and quite amazing. It was like other works of his in that it had a very large circular hole, with water spiralling inside the hole. Standing over the guard rail to take these photos I felt very awe-stuck and quite frightened by the vortex of water churning below. The photos can only give a pale impression I'm afraid.

After the exhibition it was time for a prostrate-under-the-fan rest, which has been something we have had to do at regular intervals here as it is very hot and quite humid, so we easily become limp and sweaty! In the evening we had a super Keralan meal in the Fusion Cafe, which features in Jude's research on Google very positively. Full of all manner of tourists, many of them young, with American accents featuring frequently, but also many French, German and Dutch.

!)

Many such extraordinary offers to be found fly-posted around the city.

 

The other sights we have visited include the Dutch Palace with its exhibibition about the long line of Rajahs who have ruled Kerala for centuries, and which explains how Kochi came to develop as the significant port it still is today. Then on the way back from there we walked (past the Kashmiri merchants who take importuning to a new level!) to the very old (from the 16th century) synogogue. Later we found another recommended arty-cafe for lunch and on the way back to Coral Bernard's lovely bungalow we dropped into Anokhi (one of Jude's favourite shops in Wells) and I solved my gifts for granddaughters problem very satisfactorily. The prices were significantly cheaper than in its English outlets and the shop had A/C and gently helpful assistants! 

 

Jude and I set off walking to the Kathakali Dance centre in order to be there for 5 to see the make-up session which takes at least one hour, before each evening performance. We entered this charming small theatre which to our great relief had A/C. Wafty Indian music was playing gently and a man was sitting on the stage applying thick green paint to his face. How delightful, we thought, and not many seats yet filled. Alas, in a few minutes the quiet calm was utterly disrupted by the arrival of a large party all chattering loudly in French. Things then deteriorated badly as one by one they got up from their seats to stand all around the theatre, and soon to cluster along the edge of the stage, the better to be placed  to take photos and videos of the make-up process. By now there were three actors on stage and one of them was lying prone so that a make-up artist could apply elaborate make-up. Or at least we thought this was what was happening, behind the impenetrable wall of French tourists!! There were half a dozen other British tourists seated near us, with whom we exchanged outraged and 'I don't believe it!' type non-verbal messages. One of them did that typical British ' Ahem, ahem' thing and I had to smile at quite how British we were all being in our restrained complaints. 

Only a few rude French people at this stage. Soon there were at least a dozen.

Andy joined us at 6 when the full performance started and I was very relieved that the French people then kept to their seats and were much quieter. There followed an excellent display of what Kathakali dance and drama is all about. It is very stylised, with actors wearing large masks as well as the elaborate make-up and all the dialogue done through very complex movements of the eyes, the face and the body. All accompanied by music from drums, bells and a sitar. 

I'm writing this early in the morning of the 5th February, our last day in India. Later today we fly to Chennai, there to spend a few unpleasant hours in their domestic airport before catching our Emirates flight back to chilly Blighty. I woke at 4.30 this morning when I heard the loud blast of a ship's horn, which will have been the Queen Mary cruise liner leaving port. Yesterday we saw hordes of tourists wearing Cunard badges looking- unsurprisingly- somewhat stunned by Kochi, as they were shepherded to the sights by their guides. How weird must it be to walk off a luxury liner into India!

 

I could not possibly summarise our month's experience here to finish off this blog. Proust in five minutes might be less of a challenge! So I will just sign off with sadness for what we are leaving behind and a word of real thanks to those of you who have been following us on this blog. We hope very much to be back in less than a year.

 

 

 

 

1st February

1st February, no dead dogs at Marari Beach Resort

We had tried on the previous day to go to the very plush Marari Beach resort complex which is roughly 3km up the road or  beach, but had been told politely that in very high season, with the 62 chalet homes all filled, they do not permit day visits. However they reckoned without our man Rajesh. When I told him this had happened he said immediately ' Would you like me to speak to the manager for you?' So yesterday saw Jude and I taking the autorickshaw ride again, this time with the instructions to ask for the manager, Mr Hari Krishna. We did appear to have found an Open Sesame, so through the elegant grounds we went, all lawns and coconut palms (with nets to stop the coconuts falling on sun-bathing guests) and very attentive young men. This is plainly a place where people get seriously high-end treatment. The cost per night is well over £100, which is a lot of rupees and buys a lot of service I guess. 

We were escorted to the dining room where we negotiated anxiously to make sure it was going to be ok to have a small salad (£8) rather than the whole enormous buffet spread before us. Mr Hari K said he would not normally have made the exception for us but he could not refuse two ladies. For a moment I was back in France where such flannel and flattery trips readily from the Gallic male's lips.  We worked out that at the  RUHSA canteen we could have purchased roughly 32 meals with our salad money!

Jude wearing just the right shade of blue for the picture!

After a lounge under the coconuts we decided that a dip in the Arabian Sea was in order. We sped across the boiling hot sand to the water's edge where some very large waves were breaking. As I  could see some other middle-aged people further up the beach who were swimming I imagined that it would be easy enough to get over the waves to the stiller water. Alas no, the sand dipped sharply at the water's edge and the waves were not just fairly high but more importantly had a very strong sucking undertow. So down I went in a sudden heap, and as I struggled to get up, along came the next wave. By the third wave, which completely covered me and had me spluttering in very salt water, I had begun to wonder how I would ever get up. Jude and a middle-age tourist man who was standing nearby both moved towards me, having realised what was amiss, and with Jude's outstretched hand I made it up before the next pummelling wave hit me. The only slight problem was that my costume had dropped down in the melee and out had popped the bosoms. Fortunate indeed that I have no pride left and that my main feeling was relief to be out of the way of harm! 

We decided to give up on the idea of a dip and just paddled instead in the very warm water, then sat down to watch the gorgeous spectacle of the setting sun. Just up the beach to our right, beyond the Beach resort complex, we could see crowds of people. Apparently it is a favourite thing for local Indians to come down to the sea on a Sunday night to watch the spectacle. The sun again failed to make it all the way down to the sea and the horizon before it disappeared but nonetheless it was lovely. On our way home we saw the nearly-full moon rising. An interesting day on Marari Beach.

January 30th and 31st

January 30th and 31st, the merciful whirr of fans, A/C and  the rolling crash of the sea.

One last delicious breakfast from smiley ShIbbim, one more wobbly stagger up the gangplank, a farewell to my new FB friend (oh dear!) Saju and we were off for the next part of our tour, to Marari beach, just about half an hour away on the Arabian Sea. The wonderful Rajesh had promised good accommodation and as ever he had not let us down. We are in a large three-bedroomed Home Stay bungalow, which has serious mod cons like A/C and hot water and tiled floors, but most importantly of all, two more lovely chaps to minister to our every need. They are Sanjay, the cook and Anil. So far we have had small strolls up the beach and long lounges in the breeze from the sea with books and crossword puzzles and freshly-squeezed fruit juices. Yesterday Jude and I took a stroll along the water's edge as the sun was setting and what a paradise it all seemed to be. Maybe slightly spoiled by the dead dog on the sand and the many- oops, be careful!- small piles of poo. Not dog-laid poo either. Still, as my daughter Rosie would say 'Tralalala, let's not think about that!' 

The temperature here has been rising by the day and really would be unbearable if not for fans and A/C, which inspired me to write this poem. 

Thin as a stick

Thin as a stick a lizard lurches
slips down the door frame
freezes still
the air in the room mercifully moves
fan-swirled
a ghost of a breath
my body beached, beaten by the heat
evaporates the sweat, wet, in rivulets
coconut fronds wave
desultory, flicker and clack
as January days grow hot
glass is rising, daily soars
my body, beached
no lizard
is beaten by the heat 

January 31st, Marari Beach Home Stay

January 28th and 29th

January 28^th and 29^th, in which we experience a life of luxury in a houseboat on the backwaters.

When I woke after a good few hours of sleep on my bottom bunk, in a compartment shared with Jude and a couple of unknown Indian chaps, I looked out of the window of the Chennai to Alleppey Superfast Express to see a very green and lush landscape, neat houses amongst coconut and banana plantations. We were in Kerala. We managed to get ourselves and our unwieldy bags onto the platform at Ernakkulam where shortly a man approached me with an ‘I think mam you must be Mrs Sally Whittingham.’ It was our man in Kerala, Rajesh, and every bit as charming in the flesh as he has seemed in the many emails we had exchanged. 

On hearing we had not yet had breakfast he saw us to a very luxurious large car, which had clean white cotton seat covers. I could see from Jude’s face that she was struggling to adjust to this different style of living, from the very basic to the luxury end. A person could quite easily get used to this, was my thought as I gave over responsibility for the heavy dirty bags to a strong chap and prepared to be looked after. We started with breakfast in a hotel, which was a special Keralan type of dosa, very light and crispy and cheese flavoured. Then Rajesh said his farewells and wished us a good trip and we set off in the car for a two hour drive to Alleppey, where our luxury houseboat awaited us. Kerala is so different from the places in Tamil Nadu which we know. There is much more of a feeling of space, the roads are wider, and the towns less filthy and overcrowded. I fell asleep again but Jude stayed wide awake despite having not slept on the train, and she did report several hair-raising moments during the ride. Indian road travel is never going to be anything other than scary and dangerous I fear. 

 Ferry rowing boat across the waterway

Fab feast courtesy of Shibbim

At Alleppey our houseboat awaited us and our delightful three man crew with it. There is Shibbim the cook, Sargu the service organiser and the captain/ pilot Bikrish. The boat consists of two double bedrooms with ensuite bathrooms, the large open sitting/ dining area and the kitchen at the back where Shibbim works his magic. We set off up the backwater canal and almost immediately were presented with delicious squeezed lemon drinks. Our day was to consist of quite a bit of sitting and watching the scenery go by, the giant areas of rice paddy, the coconut palms, mango trees, glorious riots of bougainvillea, other trees in full bright yellow blossom, the pretty Keralan-style houses with large verandahs and often pink-washed walls, and last but not least the huge variety of birds everywhere on the water. There are hundreds of black cormorants which stand on sticks which rise out of the water, waiting for a catch; very many white egrets of all sizes, standing in the water or in the paddy;  kingfishers flashing by in a blue and orange blur and as we moored one day we also saw a bright green bird which was tapping on a tree trunk to make a home for itself, which we thought at first must be a woodpecker but later decided looked a lot like a barbet. 

 Captain Andy takes a turn

Fetching a coconut down.

During the day from time to time we moor up and Sargu announces we are off for a walk into the village, so we walk along the riverbank, next to paddy and through coconut and banana trees. He tells us how until about ten years ago the waterways really were thoroughfares for everyone, as there were hardly any roads or bridges. We have seen the ferries which run like buses along the canals, special school bus-boats, small skiffs rowed by elderly chaps who are still strong from their daily rowing, which are the ferries that take people from one bank to the other, many small boats filled with different sorts of cargo, fishing boats, and moored up at the side of the water some enormously long racing boats called Snake boats. These latter are raced with huge crews of 110 man, including five steerers who sit over the rudder at the back and six or seven who bang drums and blow horns to keep the rhythm.  Sargu showed us video of a race, held in August,  which was incredibly fast and fiercely fought, between boats from different villages. 

Sargu tries to point out interesting things for us and he has told us how mostly on one side of the

 

This is a supermarket which travels up and down the waterways

water are Christian homes and on the other side are Hindu homes. He himself is a Roman Catholic. The Roman Catholic church has very many churches in Kerala, dating back to when St Thomas the apostle first landed in Kerala and walked the country preaching and founding churches (seven and a half the information always tells you and I puzzle over the half church) We visit a very old church, originally founded in 400 and something A D.

The highlight of our first day was a visit to an Ayurvedic centre which offered many different kinds of massage. Andy and I said we would have a go and we both agreed afterwards that it was an extraordinary and invigorating experience. A tiny Indian woman set about me very purposefully. I was to wear my birthday suit with nothing allowed for modesty. Oil was poured first over my scalp then over every part of me, and it was worked in with great vigour and pummelling and slappings. She might be tiny but she certainly packed a punch! After an hour of this she ran a bucket of hot water and sat me in the small shower/ toilet and proceeded to soap off all the oil and to bath me in this wonderful warm water. I had imagined I would remain oily and slippery for ages but her bathing had me feeling clean and refreshed and not at all greasy. I came out feeling so good and already planning for the next possibility of a massage before we leave Kerala. 

 Sunset on the backwaters and a bat hanging on a wire, under an upside down half moom

 Sunrise on our last day

The whole luxury houseboat experience is delightful I must say. It is plainly very big business during the season also, for tourism, as there are many boats like ours on the waters. We are supposed to be an eco-boat but we rather doubt the eco credentials, I fear. The very best thing is Shibbim’s superb Keralan cooking. He makes typical dishes of the area which involve a lot of coconuts, bananas and fish, served with Keralan rice which is a very large grain. In between meals there are fresh fruit juices, and pineapple or banana fritters- just delicious! We are now getting ready for our second night of sleep whilst rocking gently on the water, with the A/C on to help make the room temperature bearable. Tomorrow we will be leaving for a beach resort and I am sure that we will leave feeling very much more relaxed than we did on arrival.

January 27th

January 27^th, ‘There are no goodbyes between friends’

Our very last day today, before we were to  leave for our short holiday in Kerala. A lot of loose ends still needed to be tied up before we could feel quite happy with what has been achieved this time, and all of them hinged on our morning meeting with Dr Rita. For various reasons we were anxious going into this meeting.

All began well with a recap of what we were going to agree re honoraria for the teachers (not to be called a salary in future as this might imply more rights as RUHSA employees than would be wise) and re the contentious issue of the purchasing of saris as gifts (NB NOT to be called a bonus). Dr Rita explained in some detail, again, the strict system for payment of money into CMC/RUHSA account and the drawing out of money from these accounts and talked very seriously about what she considers in the past to have been shockingly loose systems which gave rise to much misappropriation and corruption. Dr Rita does not trust any of the staff of RUHSA and in fact believes that they have been corrupt in the past. Equally when we talked about the Self Help Group women who manage our centre, she talked about how they would be stealing from the allocated budget if there was any opportunity. 

This being the background for our discussion, we might have been prepared for the tensions which could arise. We have had a link via RUHSA personnel since 1978 and have made personal contacts and relationships with particular RUHSA community workers since 1991, since we set up the first preschool. In the meeting one of these community workers was brought into the room to answer some questions and very soon Dr Rita began a very vigorous verbal attack on him which continued for quite a time and which no interjections from the three of us would halt The staff member under attack sat at the table in silence and said not a word in his defence. I have never experienced such a feeling of distress for another human being on witnessing such an unrelenting assault. We have worked with him for twenty four years and without the help he has given us there would never have been any preschool centres, none of our work could have come to fruition. Suddenly something flipped in my head and I said, loudly, that I COULD NOT sit and listen to one more word. I then went on to talk about what this person has done for us and then about the long history of our donations to RUHSA projects (since 1978 it will actually amount to almost £70,000) and how we surely therefore have a right to our opinion on what happens now, and to be listened to. 

By the time I had finished speaking I felt absolutely done in and it was fortunate indeed that Jude was there to help me to move on with the meeting and the agenda. The offending staff member was told to leave the room and Dr Rita made it clear that our relationships with RUHSA people, as well as with the village people who have befriended us since 2004, are not something she values. She feels that it has layed us open to being manipulated by them and to being cheated. She, as Director of RUHSA, has to clear up the mess of all these community relationships which have been developed over the years and she clearly thinks that keeping a professional distance is the way we should all operate. I tried to give her a brief outline of the essence of the community link which Carolyn Whitwell and I initiated with the help of Daleep Mukarji thirty seven years ago, but I was fighting a losing battle. 

We do of course understand Dr Rita’s point of view and her need to make everyone accountable. However we have based all our work here on partnerships and on building strong personal relationships. Sometimes in life you have to go with your gut instinct about people and show trust. At the end of the meeting, largely moved on by Jude and Andy, we had, despite everything,  achieved a lot. The teachers, ayah and other helpers will indeed be bought saris with our donations, after we have left. The teachers and the ayah will be awarded a good pay rise and provision in future will be made for an annual rise in January. In addition they will get an annual Christmas gift (not bonus) equal to one month’s honorarium payment. We will budget for an annual outing for the children. The community worker with whom we have always worked will continue to support the teachers in their development and will also train up a new young community worker to take over from him. So we had good news to convey to the staff of the centre after lunch. 

We went first to the preschool to say our goodbyes to the children, with a goodbye to each child in turn and a small hand saluting us in return as they said ‘Goodbye Madam, goodbye Sir.’

Then to the home of Vimula, who cooks for the elderly alternating with Indra. She had prepared nice snacks and ‘one small coffee’ obviously also. Her daughter was there with her four month old baby and we learned that she will spend a lot of time in her mother’s home with the baby until it is five or six months old. 

We learned that the wife and baby of Suresh had gone back with him to stay in Chennai, where he works. I had worried about how his wife, Veejaykumari would manage as she is still very exhausted and the baby is a night-time crier. No need to worry though it seems because her mother has gone to Chennai to stay with them and to look after her daughter and new granddaughter. Whilst we have been here two of the young women who live in Seetaramanpet have suffered miscarriages at three months and here too what has happened is that the family of the woman has also come to help and to look after their daughter. It strikes me as very good for the care of young mothers and their babies that the family has an expectation that they will be looked after until they are strong enough not to need the extra care. I’d like to bet that the incidence of post-natal depression will be much lower in such a society. 

With another few goodbyes to friends in the village (and obviously some more small small coffees) we just had to meet with the teachers and with Sekar from RUHSA to explain about sari gifts and honorarium rises and annual trips and we also revised the daily schedule for the children very slightly, hopefully to allow for longer periods of free play.  We have also offered Balaji the job to take over from our (useless fellow) night-watchman and to develop our garden and possibly the setting up of a stall-fed goats scheme. The worry is that Balaji, who would be such an excellent worker I am sure, will not be able to afford to do this on the honorarium we could give. He might be able to combine it with the casual building work he does now which is reasonable money but very hard work. He will give it some thought and will make an appointment to go and see Dr Rita. Goodbye hung heavy in the air and there were tears all round (from me and the women). I have promised that this time we will if at all possible return in a year’s time and with the Blessed Pam and her husband Brian. 

All in all it had been an exhausting and emotionally draining day. Fortunately I was able to skype call Pam to off-load some of how I was feeling. She advised me to leave it all behind as much as possible and to be sure to enjoy our break in Kerala. Wise advice. We had to get the train at Katpadi at 10.30 so got there early in order to be sure that we did have reserved seats. We were advised to go to the CMC helpdesk where someone would ‘do the needful’ – wonderful expression!  As it turned out our faithful helper Balaji was there with his friend Boopathy and they made sure they found our seats and hefted our heavy rucksacks onto the sleeper train. Here I lay down and fell quickly asleep, to wake the next day in quite a different world.