Easy India Intro (knock on wood!)

Who knew an easy life in India was possible?  My intro has been strangely easy peasy and I’m thinking maybe I should just stay put.  Why throw myself into the filth and chaos, the death and destruction, the miserable mayhem that is waiting for me if I leave this mini holiday destination?  Because I’m in India and that’s what I’m meant to do, that’s why.  But for now, I’ll appreciate every single second of this very easy life in India.

Taking the advice of my ever wise travel wifey Deb, I have started my India journey in Fort Kochi, in the southern state of Kerala.  Surprises awaited as a cushy and silly cheap AIRCONDITIONED (!) airport bus took me from a relatively calm airport arrival experience the two hours to this little tourist haven and dropped me near a guesthouse I had arranged via reviews online.  Location:  excellent, owner:  fab, room:  dark cubicle.  *sigh*.  That’s okay, it’s only a room.  I won’t be here much anyway.  In the process of my first messy attempt at local food I met an incredibly enthusiastic little Hong Kong born Canadian man who claimed to be a retired teacher and who talked more than any single person I think I’ve met in a very long time.  I mean, it was … wow…  he talked.  But not conversation, simply talked.  Regardless, he had some interesting stories and a lot of information so I took in what I could and just let the rest flow.  He put me on to his guesthouse as he had initially stayed in the same cramped room where I was staying but found a gem of a guesthouse for a cheaper price and a whole lot more.  I’m in.  Bag packed, moved out of my cell, and into my palatial suite by 8am.  I almost wept when I saw the room – it was beyond perfect.  Owned by who must be the nicest family in all of India, I signed up for 5 days and may not ever leave. 

The days have been busy as I have wandered around a very friendly, again EASY waterfront / port town.  Big cargo ships, fishing nets, boardwalks decorated with nonsense souvenirs, and shiny shops full of expensive must-haves in the forms of spices, flowy colourful clothes, and “antiques” to adorn your heart and home.  The people are relaxed and smiley, even the tuk tuks only ask you once if you want a tuk tuk, and yes, life floats by here. 

I lucked out in my timing as Kochi was hosting India’s first Biennale; the town has turned into a supersized abstract art gallery, some of which is really very good.  I’m the first to admit that I have zero creativity.  Zero.  I cannot draw, paint, sculpt, carve, play an instrument (okay, well I played the flute a million years ago but that doesn’t count), or do anything that requires any stretch of creative imagination so when I see a broken up Walkman (yes, a cassette playing Walkman) running a continuous reel of tape with white noise playing as some kind of Burmese symbolism, sorry folks, that’s not art to me.  I have no ability to appreciate broken children’s toys or shredded plastic or random scribbles and scratches on a wall, or a mess of colour that may or may not take some kind of shape. I can appreciate nice things, I can appreciate talent but sadly a lot of the “abstract” is lost on me.

Hence, for me, a historical moment for India will not be remembered by the tremendously influential and meaningful art work but by the free MIA concert in the local park.  An Indian born UK / US pop singer whose music befuddled the local crowd but was most appreciated by the travellers in the area.  And by the way, Indians can’t dance.  I was thoroughly amused not only by the concert but by watching the local boys giving their all trying but failing monumentally to dance, clap, and generally get into the groove.  How on earth Bollywood came out of this country is beyond me because at least in Kochi, these boys ain’t got no rhythm.  Wow.  Pure entertainment.  But a good time was had and yes, my timing was lucky lucky.  Free stuff – who doesn’t love free stuff?! 

I had some fantastic company whilst at the guesthouse and was able to explore the area without the usual “alone girl” hassles.  Spent one day on a scooter with an Italian couple (I had my own scooter, just in case you were wondering how three of us managed on one bike) to find an amazing, almost empty, stretch forever beach with big waves (from the sea and the locals) and hot, hot sun.  Then the couple, an Israeli woman, and I rented a car, complete with driver, to explore a tea plantation far too many hours away.  The driver was a very sweet, gentle man of the tender age of 72.  Yes, 72.  The blue cataract rims around his dark, kind eyes were my first warning sign but by the time we were in, there was no turning back. 

Tea plantations bloom and blossom in steep rocky hills which often turn into treacherous territory in most areas so the roads to access these towns are narrow, windy, and often poorly maintained.  As we wove our way at far too fast of a speed around these Indian roads with a dozy old man determined to pass every vehicle out for the day, all of us (whom are all fairly experienced travellers) were noticing that he didn’t seem to see oncoming vehicles until far too late, that he didn’t seem to hear the warning horns of vehicles around the blind bends in the road, and that he didn’t seem to care about his general state of unawareness.  We four were fairly convinced this would be our last trip.  Ever.  At one bright and sunny midday point high up on a narrow section of the road, our dear sweet driver insisted on passing a massive dump truck whilst navigating one of these heart lurching blind bends.  As we rounded the corner fully exposed on the wrong side of the road, all four of us holding our breath and silently cursing old man stubbornness, a large vehicle of some sort bore down fast and heavy on us, we being directly in its path.  Blind Old Man swerved into the dump truck he was attempting to pass with a solid smash as the rear of our car connected with the front of the truck.  *sigh*  None of us the least bit surprised but really?  I’m PAYING to die?!  You’ve got to be kidding me.

Angry words were exchanged between the drivers as the four of us quickly exited the vehicle and stood on the safety of the opposite side of the road, as far away from the mess as we could.   We’re fine, we’re fine, the car is fine (a ding and scrape smash, no biggie), but Jesus, what are we going to do about this guy?  As the truck driver was on the phone to who knows who, our little old man scurries over to usher us all back into the car.  We’re pretty sure he pulled a sneaky quickie and we may have been accomplices in a hit and run but meh, we’re on our way so not much we can do. 

We continued to beg and try to reason with him, insisting that we were in no hurry and that by slowing down we could actually enjoy the scenery instead of white knuckling the upholstery and biting through our cheeks but he was on a mission.  Things to do, places to see. 

The day was long, somewhat stressful, definitely life threatening but overall, a success.  We wandered through tea plantations, ate good food and cake (three cheers for cake!) and learned lots about each other.  The stories, the stories, it’s always about the stories.  I now have happy homes where I can lay my head in Italy and Israel if anyone is interested in heading that way.  We arrived home by the skin of our teeth many many hours into the darkness with little sleep as we were all far too fearful to close our eyes in the car.  Strangely enough, he seemed to become a better driver once the sun set.  Go figure.  Another day, another adventure.

Spent a lot of time the next day trying to get my life together and make a bit of a travel plan but failed miserably and ended up with a few hours of sleep before a 3:30am alarm to make it to a 5am train that was taking me to my very first ashram.  I know nothing about where I’m going, what an ashram experience is meant to be, and if I will actually be able to tolerate a 2 week health focused, very regimented program but I’m excited about my first go at yoga and as is my newly adopted motto inspired by travelling so far…  why not?  Hippie life, here I come.       

Beach Life in South Lanka.

Okay, okay, okay.  You know life is good on the road when you just can’t find time to write.  Where did I last leave you guys?  Ella?  Wow.  That was a lifetime ago.  Let’s do a quick catch up (well, “quick” as in condensed because yeah, you know me.)

After the chilly but captivating tourist town of Ella I decided to head for the beach.  Mirissa was supposed to be the place to go.  Regular run about lugging bags on and off of overfull buses flying warp speed down the middle of crowded roads, aging me every minute, then conveniently get dropped right outside a decent guesthouse and settle in.  Decided to stay a few days as an annoying travel cold was kicking in full force and I thought life would be good by the sea. 

It was so nice to be back at the water.  This was meant to be the centre point for whale watching; blue whales, biggest beauties in the sea, can be seen from boats shuttling eager camera wielding tourists to and fro.  This was my grand plan.  The owner of the guesthouse immediately set out trying to sell me on his best, the only good, government regulations boat and I stepped back.  You know when your little ding ding bells go off and waving red flags pop up?  This guy was all smiles and “I help you!” but yeah, I said I’d get back to him. 

The beach in Mirissa, meh.  Nice and small.  Crashing waves way too rough for me.  Some surfers braving a bit of break towards the cliffs at the end, lots of super expensive but shabby beach front restaurants, it was pretty, but meh.  Didn’t even take any photos.  Hopped on a bus or two, explored the small towns either side of Marissa, tried to sleep off my cold, and looked into the whale thing.  Turns out I’m a little too early for the big shows.  The boats that had been going out (4 – 5 hour trips with some big rocking swells) were resulting in one, maybe two tail showings.  That’s it.  Hmmmm…  several hours of seasickness and a big chunk of cash for a fleeting glimpse of a tail – I think I’m going to pass on this one sadly. 

I learned very quickly that in Mirissa, when you say no, the relationship is over.  The guesthouse guy, a fat-bellied horker / snorter who wore nothing but a very dirty lungi, became pouty and angry with me, even when I caught him in a lie about prices, and stopped speaking to me entirely.  I’d smile and offer an extra cheery “Good morning!” which was either entirely ignored or acknowledged with a grunt if others were in the room.  No big deal for me as I didn’t see him that often, but really?  Come on now.  The very sweet and slightly senile mother-in-law whose house it actually was spoke zero English but spent an evening showing me her fabulous wedding photos and making it clear in the brilliant art of charades that she really didn’t like her son-in-law, the current man in charge.  That was all I needed to put my guilty feelings right.  It seemed like anywhere that you went to ask for info on various things, if you didn’t commit and buy right then and there, it was a ‘harumph!’ head turned away, get out of my sight reaction.  Not the nicest people in Mirissa.  A very long and uneventful few days there. 

So off to the next beach town, Unawatuna.  Say it.  It’s fun.  Wanted to do some diving.  Similar to Mirissa but WAY more options in terms of places to stay, bigger beach, and definitely more of a tourist hotspot.  Plan – DIVING.  Visited a few and chose one that I got a pretty good vibe off of.  Showed up to dive and they insisted on giving me fins that didn’t fit (I have ridiculously small feet).  Hence, fail.  Got into the water and there was just no chance that the dive was going to happen.  If I lose a fin, I have to pay for it and even with socks, I couldn’t keep them on.  Itty bitty baby fins, surface current too strong and got nowhere despite massive effort.  *sigh* waited on the boat in utter frustration.  *whine.  whine.  whine.*  I want to dive.  Second day tried a different dive shop, German owned so yeah, everything was tip top.  The dives however,  … crap.    Always happy to be in the water but I had really high hopes for this jewel of an island.

The south coast of Sri Lanka was smashed by the tsunami so perhaps this is why there’s so little to see.  Well, for me, this spoiled dive princess.  Murky waters, no coral, hardly any fish, even the wrecks looked like shadowy mounds of moss.  Only two dives and it was enough.  That being said, if anyone is looking to set up shop, this is the place to be.  I swam off on my own for a bit and with some serious effort I was able to find a few very cool and tiny hiding bits of interesting life but the dive guides here just have no idea what to look for.  The few shops in town are all in the business of scoping out new staff and dives sites as they know their current ones don’t have much to offer.  Jacques Cousteau’s grandson was diving with the shop when I was there as he is setting up some new projects.  Being just out of a civil war there is mega business to be found here and I’m sure with some time and a little searching, Sri Lanka will be on the map of “world’s wicked dive spots” in no time.  If anyone has a wad of cash they want to invest, let me know; I’d be MORE than happy to set up shop for you there.  Seriously. 

I liked the atmosphere in Unawatuna, but got the boot from my guesthouse, quite by surprise.  It was THE most fantastic sleep spot so I decided to stay for a while to do some wandering but when I came back after my dives on the second day, the owner said “You’re leaving tomorrow.”  Thinking it was meant to be a question, I laughed and told him that I was going to stay as I might dive a bit more and hadn’t had much of a chance to explore.  “No,” he told me, “you’re leaving tomorrow.  I booked the room for someone else.”  A quiet but heated discussion ensued wherein the rudeness of his behavior and desperately lacking communication skills despite speaking very good English were clearly outlined for him.  He didn’t care.  I was leaving tomorrow.  

All was fine though as Eva, the gorgeous German I had spent time with in the hills, was in the next beach town of Hikkaduwa (again, say it.  Love these names!)  and was staying there for a while.  She said it was very chilled out and a must see.  So I went and saw. 

The biggest of the touristy beach towns but GORGEOUS beach.  Not quite Mozambique, nothing could be Mozambique, but the closest I have seen.  Love, love, LOVED the beach.  One long strip of guesthouses, restaurants, and shops with loads of sunburned Russians and chilled out surfer dudes lounging about.  Oh, and did I mention the beach?  I could walk for MILES on soft, CLEAN sand and only run into a few people here and there.  The waves were big and the strangest currents came in and swept you straight sideways off your feet in warm, wild water.  Despite a few panicky moments of “holy shit I’m being dragged to my death!”, the water was good fun for playing.  A week melted by and I did a whole lot of I’m not quite sure what.  It was divine.  The locals even seemed more chilled out there.  Did some city exploring, ate way too much food, walked and walked and walked, rented a scooter and drove around, laid in the sun, and even drank wine.  I found out much too late that after my year of yearning in Indo, Sri Lanka had all the worldly wine you could ever want at really good prices.  *sigh*  I still got a good bottle worth in though so all good.  All good. 

The week was great, it was SO nice to hang out with really good company and be a tourist instead of a traveller for a bit.  I was seriously contemplating extending my visa in SL for another month but the time on my Indian visa was ticking away.  It was time to go. 

Sri Lanka – two thumbs up and on my list for must go back to countries.  I feel like I saw and did almost nothing of what the country has to offer after only a month.  It’s clean (compared to Indo and apparently to India, of course), the people are LOVELY, you can do the usual ignoring of the incredibly annoying tuk tuks and touts without any worry of aggression, the men are still icky and in some towns after a few run ins I was confined to my room after dark but for the most part, no issues at all, the food is YUM!, and it’s still all new.  Everyone I met who has had an India experience says that SL is a very soft India, all the good stuff of India, a warm up for or necessary wind down to India but India aside, I really, really liked SL.  Trains and tea, climbing mountains or swimming in the sea, SL is an upcoming love affair for sure.  Get here now, before it’s overdone.  And if you need a travel partner, let me know.  I’m definitely up for it.  Definitely. 

I’m off to India, completely unprepared, no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing, and to be honest, a little scared out of my mind.  Bring it on.