I have been procrastinating about this India blog for a few days now ever since leaving Chennai because I know there is no way to formulate generalizations honestly about the country after spending a short week in any one state. Oh, I know folks say things like whatever one says about India, the opposite is true. And the usual… the country is disgustingly filthy and no one seems to care. I’ll try to choose some stories to tell, and let the reader decide if there is any truth to be taken.
My India journey began in Chennai where we docked on Oct. 15th, and after all the red tape, bureaucracy and stalling for four hours, the prisoners were released from the shackles and let loose on this port town formerly known as Madras. No madras woven here anymore; that’s done in Sri Lanka with whom India has been fighting for years. Does anyone else remember not being fully outfitted in college without having several pairs of madras shorts? However, Chennai is noted for some fine tailors and a surplus of fabric stores….both of which I never found. The port was covered with a black soot that attached itself with vigor to every part of one’s body, beggars were everywhere, dogs with teats hanging out from skin and bones, buildings covered in mildew, and junk sold on every street corner. Stopped at the post office to watch how to buy stamps and apply the animal pase to seal them to envelopes, and then visited some shrines in local banks. There is a god of money, after all.
Into a tuck-tuck for a hair raising ride through miles of tightly woven traffic and a visit to a make-shift mall that sold pretty much of everything. Could not find a place to stop and eat, and, besides, I had to make it back to the ship in time to catch a taxi to the airport. Sweaty and filthy I got back, washed and met my traveling companion, Patty (archaeologist from UVA) and we headed to the airport for a 6:30 flight to Cochin (also known as Kochi). Kingfisher Airlines actually gave us little plastic cases with pens and a decent dinner. Why can’t they let American airlines know that food is important to keep people happy?
Landing at the Cochin airport was like going back into a British colonial past. Beautiful woodwork, comfortable armchairs to await flights, taxi service to town, tea shops. However, another hair raising ride into town, but rest awaiting us at a fairly decent hotel with very polite and very helpful staff. We needed to plan adventures.
We were smack in the middle of town and from my breakfast table I watched men, women and children coming to work in their finery (and not so finery). Women were elegantly dressed in silk and cotton sarees, and outfits that had knee length dresses over long pants with scarves to match…not only match, but complement beautifully. Couldn’t wait to get to the shops where these were made if only to feel the fabrics and talk with the women who were wearing them. The buses were crowded, cows walked in the road, tuck-tucks everywhere, some bicycles, a few goats and what else? Some fancy cars and lots of people just trying to cross streets where no one stops for pedestrians. But the streets were clean compared to Chennai and only a few beggar women in sight..
Landing at the Cochin airport was like going back into a British colonial past. Beautiful woodwork, comfortable armchairs to await flights, taxi service to town, tea shops. However, another hair raising ride into town, but rest awaiting us at a fairly decent hotel with very polite and very helpful staff. We needed to plan adventures.
We were smack in the middle of town and from my breakfast table I watched men, women and children coming to work in their finery (and not so finery). Women were elegantly dressed in silk and cotton sarees, and outfits that had knee length dresses over long pants with scarves to match…not only match, but complement beautifully. Couldn’t wait to get to the shops where these were made if only to feel the fabrics and talk with the women who were wearing them. The buses were crowded, cows walked in the road, tuck-tucks everywhere, some bicycles, a few goats and what else? Some fancy cars and lots of people just trying to cross streets where no one stops for pedestrians. But the streets were clean compared to Chennai and only a few beggar women in sight..
India is not Chennai, not Kochi, not Delhi, not Calcutta, not Varanasi, Bombay, Mysore or Jaipur. From the stories I heard from fellow SAS travelers every state seems to be different with different religious majorities/minorities. A huge potpourri of philosophies, religions, politics, economies, for a start. Some are tidier than others, some more into 21st century technologies, some richer, some poorer, some matriarchal. All of my assumptions about the country have been challenged, and I certainly have no solutions to the problems of over population and poverty. What I did witness in the small city of Kochi was a society of Indians who were generally kind to us, anxious to tell us about their various religions, and anxious to show us their wares. They did not land on us like vultures to buy trinkets, but were rather interested in engaging us in conversations about where we came from, what religion we
believed in, how many children we had, etc. In short we met lots of Kochi citizens and they were generally very kind. The town was described to us as matriarchal.
Kochi is a coastal town to the southwest of Chennai known for its fishing industry, famous for its palm-fringed beaches (where no one swims), unique system of backwaters and canals, and its rolling estates of tea, coffee, rubber, and spices. The area has a rich history, containing the oldest Christian church and Jewish synagogue in India, as well as innumerable Hindu and Buddhist temples.. Its educational system is one of the best in India, achieving a literacy rate of 95%. We toured the churches and synagogue (which btw has only six families belonging…the rest migrated to Israel), walked the beach area with families and young children, and watched the fisherman untangle the famous Chinese fishing nets. A section of Fort Cochin has an area called Jewtown where all the merchants ply their wares….and the spice market is fabulous. Walking through the narrow alleys one can smell cinnamon, vanilla, cardamom…at least those spices I recognized. I imagined the scene to be the same five hundred years ago. The Communist party is credited with the equality in land apportionment.
Portuguese, Dutch, French, Brits settled Kochi at one time or other and the architecture is varied. There are spotless villas, shacks, cows, goats, chickens everywhere and people in every nook and cranny. But somehow the Indians make it all work and they seem happy doing their everyday chores, worshipping at shrines along the roadsides, eating highly spiced food with their right hands (bad to use left since that’s the hand that wipes the….), and driving like maniacs on narrow rutted roads. I could not stop looking and making comments like “awesome, amazing, nuts, and god please spare my life!”
Patty and I booked passage on a house boat for a day and cruised the inland lake watching shell fisherman collect clams for eating and for making calcium pills…a small cottage industry on one of the islands. We saw vanilla, cashews, cinnamon, cardamon, medicinal herbs growing, and the guide explained the gathering and use processes. Coconuts are the sustainable crop providing food, drink, fuel, and fiber for the inhabitants. People were very proud to demonstrate how they grow and how they are the backbone of their economy.. The boats were very quiet on the lake unlike the noisy motors we had in the Mekong Delta of Viet Nam, and the morning flew by very quickly. The boatmen provided a delicious lunch of curries and chutneys, and we were passed on to a few thick wooden canoes to be punted through narrow jungle-like lagoons. The trip was magical, peaceful, interesting and a whole lot of fun. Our hosts made us laugh, tried to scare us with machetes, yelled out to the guys taking baths in the lagoons, and cut up some coconuts for us to eat. No hustle-bustle, just peace and quiet and four different species of kingfishers. No monkeys, snakes or alligators! I’m guessing now peace and quiet is a great luxury in India.
The traffic going back to the center of Kochi was pretty thick with cows, goats, children coming home from school in their uniforms, trucks, tuck-tucks, bicycles…the usual Indian traffic. In the evening we settled into a quiet dinner and a Kingfisher beer and went to bed early.
Our last day was devoted to the tailor and a return to Jewtown to do some last minute shopping. The one thing I loved about all of the shops was being able to joke with the shopkeepers, bargain and come away with some nice souvenirs from India: batiks, beads, soft cotton shirts, pillow covers and good memories. The next few hours would test our endurance and strength.
We raced back to the hotel in more traffic, picked up our gear and drove like hell to the airport in a monsoon rain just making it in time for security (which is first rate!) and a wait in the soft-cushy chairs. No plane…and no plane is bad for semester at sea folks. We watched the monitors that were looping with the same information for an hour. We were taken to a hotel for dinner and the lights went out, and suddenly everyone in the dining room was looking the same…men with dark skin and mustaches. No information and no encouragement…we were beginning to panic.
At midnight our plane arrived from Bombay (Mumbai) and we rushed to the vans to return to the airport. Boarded at 1:30 and arrived back at Chennai at 2:30 am wondering just how we were to return to the port in the middle of the night. Our driver got lost…we could see the ship, but not get to it. Guards were posted everywhere and finally we were left off at an outside gate where the guards would not let our driver through. In fact they thought it quite humorous that we had to walk in the dark, through the soot and homeless back to our gangway. They could not find our original papers from the previous three days and I grabbed the book and found them…not so smart. At that point a train pulled across the road and we could not pass into the port area! The guards still though it was funny…two “rich Americans” stressed out. Train passed and then the monsoon rains came and we walked 1/8 of a mile back to the ship. Walking, I lost the bottom out of my bag and everything fell out. In bed by 3:30 and up the next day at noon….Ship left in the early evening.
The next day’s stories ran the gamut from pure bliss to pure torment. Trains stalled on tracks, rats running rampant, inspiring cremations at Varanasi, homestays with the rich and famous, meetings with the Dalit (untouchables), crippled children in orphanages, rotary projects. There were as many opinions about India as there were different areas visited.
I’m very glad to have had the good fortune to visit a country of such contradictions, beauty and environmental degradation. It makes me realize the world is not always as I think it is or as it should be. Perhaps the path to enlightenment!
believed in, how many children we had, etc. In short we met lots of Kochi citizens and they were generally very kind. The town was described to us as matriarchal.
Kochi is a coastal town to the southwest of Chennai known for its fishing industry, famous for its palm-fringed beaches (where no one swims), unique system of backwaters and canals, and its rolling estates of tea, coffee, rubber, and spices. The area has a rich history, containing the oldest Christian church and Jewish synagogue in India, as well as innumerable Hindu and Buddhist temples.. Its educational system is one of the best in India, achieving a literacy rate of 95%. We toured the churches and synagogue (which btw has only six families belonging…the rest migrated to Israel), walked the beach area with families and young children, and watched the fisherman untangle the famous Chinese fishing nets. A section of Fort Cochin has an area called Jewtown where all the merchants ply their wares….and the spice market is fabulous. Walking through the narrow alleys one can smell cinnamon, vanilla, cardamom…at least those spices I recognized. I imagined the scene to be the same five hundred years ago. The Communist party is credited with the equality in land apportionment.
Portuguese, Dutch, French, Brits settled Kochi at one time or other and the architecture is varied. There are spotless villas, shacks, cows, goats, chickens everywhere and people in every nook and cranny. But somehow the Indians make it all work and they seem happy doing their everyday chores, worshipping at shrines along the roadsides, eating highly spiced food with their right hands (bad to use left since that’s the hand that wipes the….), and driving like maniacs on narrow rutted roads. I could not stop looking and making comments like “awesome, amazing, nuts, and god please spare my life!”
Patty and I booked passage on a house boat for a day and cruised the inland lake watching shell fisherman collect clams for eating and for making calcium pills…a small cottage industry on one of the islands. We saw vanilla, cashews, cinnamon, cardamon, medicinal herbs growing, and the guide explained the gathering and use processes. Coconuts are the sustainable crop providing food, drink, fuel, and fiber for the inhabitants. People were very proud to demonstrate how they grow and how they are the backbone of their economy.. The boats were very quiet on the lake unlike the noisy motors we had in the Mekong Delta of Viet Nam, and the morning flew by very quickly. The boatmen provided a delicious lunch of curries and chutneys, and we were passed on to a few thick wooden canoes to be punted through narrow jungle-like lagoons. The trip was magical, peaceful, interesting and a whole lot of fun. Our hosts made us laugh, tried to scare us with machetes, yelled out to the guys taking baths in the lagoons, and cut up some coconuts for us to eat. No hustle-bustle, just peace and quiet and four different species of kingfishers. No monkeys, snakes or alligators! I’m guessing now peace and quiet is a great luxury in India.
The traffic going back to the center of Kochi was pretty thick with cows, goats, children coming home from school in their uniforms, trucks, tuck-tucks, bicycles…the usual Indian traffic. In the evening we settled into a quiet dinner and a Kingfisher beer and went to bed early.
Our last day was devoted to the tailor and a return to Jewtown to do some last minute shopping. The one thing I loved about all of the shops was being able to joke with the shopkeepers, bargain and come away with some nice souvenirs from India: batiks, beads, soft cotton shirts, pillow covers and good memories. The next few hours would test our endurance and strength.
We raced back to the hotel in more traffic, picked up our gear and drove like hell to the airport in a monsoon rain just making it in time for security (which is first rate!) and a wait in the soft-cushy chairs. No plane…and no plane is bad for semester at sea folks. We watched the monitors that were looping with the same information for an hour. We were taken to a hotel for dinner and the lights went out, and suddenly everyone in the dining room was looking the same…men with dark skin and mustaches. No information and no encouragement…we were beginning to panic.
At midnight our plane arrived from Bombay (Mumbai) and we rushed to the vans to return to the airport. Boarded at 1:30 and arrived back at Chennai at 2:30 am wondering just how we were to return to the port in the middle of the night. Our driver got lost…we could see the ship, but not get to it. Guards were posted everywhere and finally we were left off at an outside gate where the guards would not let our driver through. In fact they thought it quite humorous that we had to walk in the dark, through the soot and homeless back to our gangway. They could not find our original papers from the previous three days and I grabbed the book and found them…not so smart. At that point a train pulled across the road and we could not pass into the port area! The guards still though it was funny…two “rich Americans” stressed out. Train passed and then the monsoon rains came and we walked 1/8 of a mile back to the ship. Walking, I lost the bottom out of my bag and everything fell out. In bed by 3:30 and up the next day at noon….Ship left in the early evening.
The next day’s stories ran the gamut from pure bliss to pure torment. Trains stalled on tracks, rats running rampant, inspiring cremations at Varanasi, homestays with the rich and famous, meetings with the Dalit (untouchables), crippled children in orphanages, rotary projects. There were as many opinions about India as there were different areas visited.
I’m very glad to have had the good fortune to visit a country of such contradictions, beauty and environmental degradation. It makes me realize the world is not always as I think it is or as it should be. Perhaps the path to enlightenment!
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