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.