Trichy

After Madurai, our next stop was Trichy to see more of the temples.  The ride from Madurai to Trichy was on that same lovely highway, so we made it there by noon, I found us a cheap room, we dropped our bags, and went to lunch downstairs for a veg thali on an actual banana leaf, which we haven't seen since we were in Malaysia.  It was tasty but spicy, which didn't sit well with Colin. 

view of the Rock Fort Temple

We then got back on the bikes to find our way to the Rock Fort Temple, which sits on a giant rock that is supposed to resemble the penis of Shiva (there are countless Shiva penises in the temples).  You climb the stone steps, all 437 of them to the top and walk into a tiny and rather unimpressive temple at the top.  But the view was worth the climb.  It's probably the highest point in the city, so you have a 360 degree view over the city, the river, and can see the big temple, Ranganathaswamy Temple in the distance.  Plus, there was a nice breeze blowing, so we stood and watched the rhesus monkeys eat a bag of fruit that a visitor tossed them along with leftover rice and curry(?) out of the trash can.  They were apparently feeling a little parched after their meal, so the monkeys' next stop was the drinking water station, where we watched two of them turn on the faucets to help themselves to a drink (they weren't very conservation-minded, since they didn't bother to turn it off once they finished).  Needless to say, we didn't refill our water bottles while we were there. 

gopuram getting a facelift

We made our way to the Ranganathaswamy Temple the next morning, having to weave through the city streets, dodging oxcarts, goats, and cattle in the market surrounding the temple in addition to the usual gamut of vehicles.  This temple is old and massive, one of the biggest in India.  It was the first one we've seen that doesn't have every surface painted in an explosion of psychedelic colors.  We climbed to the view spot, on the roof of one of the buildings to get an overview of the temple grounds.  It was huge!  From that vantage, it looked very impressive with its towering gopurams and gold dome centerpiece.  From groundlevel though, it was less so.  My personal problem with the temples here is that there is so much going on visually, and it's all way above eye level so it's hard see.  I did get blessed by another temple elephant (it can't hurt) and made Colin get blessed too (maybe it will help with his intermittent gastrointestinal issues) before we left. 

Colin getting blessed

Before we got on the road to Thanjavur, I stopped at the restaurant downstairs for another thali lunch since Colin wasn't up to eating.  It was a strange experience- eating solo, with an audience.  As soon as I walked in, a man led me to a table, I sat down, ordered, and a swarm of people came with bowls and buckets of different items to put on my banana leaf.  Then they all stood there and watched me eat.  I mixed my dhal into the rice, scooped up bits of the vegetables and mixed that in, and shoveled the whole mess into my piehole with vigor.  They seemed to approve and kept offering me more scoops of things to add to my leaf until I couldn't eat any more.  That and a fresh lime soda to drink, all for 60 rupees (1.20 USD).  Once I scrubbed the lentils out from under my fingernails, we loaded the bikes and got back in the saddles. 

Madurai

temple gopuram in Madurai

Our next destination was Madurai, which is farther inland than we've been so far.  The ride out of Kanyakumari was hazy and warm, but the scenery was lovely. Rice paddies, small waterways, coconut palms, all very green against a backdrop of ancient looking mountains.  I think they are the tail of the Western Ghats, which start somewhere southeast of Mumbai and run all the way down the country.  They remind me of the karst formations in Halong Bay, the way they rise from the flat ground and appear to almost float on the green.  

Once we wound our way out of Kanyakumari on the city roads, we entered the most beautiful piece of pavement we've seen in months.  The road was divided, with two lanes in each direction, no potholes, and access roads!  And for some reason, there was very little traffic to make it even more delightful.  Apparently the Indian government has given up on road construction and has turned it over to the private sector.  Companies build roads and make their money back over time through toll collection from cars, trucks, and buses (but not motorbikes).  Unfortunately, it takes so long to recoup the costs, and with the global economy as it is, the companies don't want to invest their money in road projects, so there aren't many new roads.  Colin and I both enjoyed the ride to Madurai as a sort of vacation.  We could look around at the scenery and windfarms in the area, and I even sang in my helmet for the first time in weeks! 

Our pleasant ride ended when we got to Madurai and joined the usual hordes of vehicles all trying to get somewhere.  We got into the city, and I found a room while Colin waited with the bikes and chatted with a woman from Chapel Hill, NC who is here to do some volunteer work.  Once we got settled into our beautiful room in a shabby, old hotel, (the room really was gorgeous.  It had new everything- fixtures, furniture, floor tiles, A/C, linens.  The lobby and hallways hadn't been touched in probably two decades or more, but they were gutting other rooms while we were there) we went for some lunch and then worked on ride reports and blog posts in the room until dinnertime.  Colin still wasn't feeling well, so we found a place with non-Indian food on the menu for dinner and then went to bed.

The big attraction in Madurai is the Sri Meenakshi temple.  It was built in the mid-16^th century and is huge, covering six hectares and is marked by twelve gopurams, which are giant towers covered with Hindu deities and other figures, all painted in an explosion of bright colors.  The tallest of the towers here is 52 meters high.  After fending off the usual touts and guides, and here, tailors, we checked our shoes and went inside.  Everyone seems to be a tailor, and they all want to make you a shirt or pants in two hours or less for 50 rupees!  They offer to take you to a building just outside the temple grounds, where you can climb to the rooftop for a better overall temple vista.  Then they start the sales pitch.  I got snagged by one tout when I stopped to buy some dates from a street vendor (30 rupees/60 cents for a big bag).  I thought I was dealing with the date salesman, but after I paid, he started into his tailor pitch.  We managed to lose him and made our way into the temple. 

sacred cow and camels

The first thing we saw once we were inside was a procession of temple camels, cows, and an elephant, all decked out in their finery, followed by drummers and men wheeling large carts holding deities.  Like most of the temples in India, some areas are off-limits to non-Hindus, but here, large portions of the temple are open.  We spent the next few hours touring the temple, observing the pilgrims, and marveling at the architecture.  Re got “kissed” on the head by the temple elephant as a blessing, and hopefully the elephant snot in her hair will bring her good luck.  Sometime after noon, we wandered back to the hotel, stopping on the way to pick up some baked goods which I thought I could eat. 

statue of Mahatma Gandhi

After eating our food, we hopped on the bikes and rode the three miles or so to the Gandhi Museum.  We arrived at around 1:15 and soon found out that the lunch hour at the museum is from 1:00 until 2:00.  So we killed our 45 minutes by wandering around the grounds of the museum and having our picture taken several times by other visitors to the museum.  This is something that happens at nearly every site we visit.  People love to have their picture taken with us (I assume with other foreigners as well) and I have no idea how many people's vacation photos we will eventually end up in.  Re and I joke that if we charge five rupees for each picture, we could pay for our trip.  Finally, 2:00 pm rolled around and we entered the museum.  The first half of the museum tells the story of the occupation of India from the early days in the 1500s through to India's eventual independence in the late 1940s. The second half of the museum is dedicated to the life and work of Mahatma Gandhi.  His life is a fascinating story and is told in great detail through text, photos, exhibits, and letters he wrote.  For me the most moving part of the exhibit was the blood-stained dhoti that he was wearing when he was gunned down by a Hindu zealot on his way to a prayer meeting in 1948.  

His dhoti actually brought tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat as I stood there looking at it in its glass case.  To see his glasses, his shoes, and the thread he spun, is... I don't know what to say.  It is difficult enough to believe that a man such as Mahatma Gandhi ever lived on this earth, but to have died at the hand of a fellow human being is just about incomprehensible.   

Reaching the Tip of the Subcontinent

Asian black bear at the zoo

Since we were afraid of losing all forward momentum if we stayed in Varkala any longer, we got up the next morning with the intention of moving on to Kanyakumari with a stop in Trivandrum to visit the zoo.  We both enjoy an opportunity to view to native animals, and this zoo was supposed to be one of the best in India and have a number of tigers.  The ride to Trivandrum was hectic (I was ready to turn around and go back to Varkala within fifteen minutes of leaving), but we made it there before noon, found a spot to park, and joined the crowds of people who also planned to enjoy an afternoon at the zoo.  We wandered along with everyone else, stopping to watch the animals do their things.  We spent a couple of hours there and were impressed overall with the conditions of the habitats.  The large animals (cats, bears, rhinos) had good-sized, grassy and tree-shaded areas with cover and places to climb if they wanted.  The aviaries were also pretty nice with a good variety of birds.  After we'd seen the animals, we got back on the bikes to continue to Kanyakumari, the southermost tip of India.

Of course it took longer to get there that we anticipated due to another load of extremely heavy traffic and nasty pavement.  While trying to make our way through some unknown town, I did, however, see my first elephant being moved in the bed of a truck.  At first I thought it was a hairless, oversized cow or water buffalo, but when I got right behind it, I saw that no, it wasn't mange, it was wrinkles, and it had much larger ears than any cow I've seen.  You just never know what you'll encounter here. 

epitome of serenity yellow walls

Once we got to Kanyakumari, the sun was setting and I went walkies to look for a place to stay.  I managed to score a room with a beautiful sea and temple tank view from the balcony, and it was painted the most serene shade of yellow imaginable (see pic).  After we'd checked in and dumped our crap in the room, we went got some dinner (a really tasty but fiery hot veg thali) and then looked around the bazaar.  Kanyakumari has a large temple which attracts many pilgrims along with the people there to see the southern tip of India, where the Arabian Sea, Indian Ocean, and Bay of Bengal meet, and they were all out shopping that night.  It was like a carnival between the lights, the neon colors of the chetsch and strings of seashells for sale, the snacks frying on the steetside, and the children with money in their grubby paws, running around trying to decide how to spend it. I do not understand the prevalence of polarfleece and sweaters being sold.  This is the tropics, not Alaska, but people here certainly have a different idea of what exactly cold is.

view from our balcony with evil church

The next morning we were rudely awakened at 5am by the horrendous noises coming from the PA system of the Catholic church nearby.  Apparently they are trying to convert the local population through sleep deprivation and caterwauling (I am unable to come up with a more plausible reason for the very ungodly (to my ears anyway) sounds).   I understand the make a joyful noise bit and that my idea of melodious may be different from others, but does it have to start before the sun rises? I found our earplugs, we stuffed them in our ears, and eventually went back to sleep.  Once we got up,  we went out and had masala dosai and delicious milk coffee for breakfast among the tables of pilgrims and walked down to the southernmost tip of India for a photo op.  We were unfortunately unable to get the bikes down there for a group portrait, so the snapshots of Colin and me will have to suffice. 

Colin at southernmost tip of India

Kanyakumari has a museum devoted to the Wandering Monk (with a very tasteful neon sign), Swami Vivekananda, which has an in-depth account of his journey throughout India on which he learned about the religions of India, picked up followers along the way, and developed a philosophy incorporating all religions and social justice to make India great and tried to spread it to the west as well.  Later, we took the ferry out to an island approximately 400 meters off shore, where the Swami meditated at the end of his all-India journey.  Here, his followers have built a memorial and temple to pay tribute to him.  The ferry trip was our first real introduction to the legendary queuing in India.  First, we had to get into a mile-long line to buy a ticket, all the while fending off latecomers who believe they want to get on the ferry worse than you do.  Then, after finally getting a ticket, we joined another mile-long line to board the ferry.  This line was inside the ferry building, and it was hot.  A family who was in line behind us shared some of their snack food (chaat) with us while we all waited, and of course, it was spicy.  After nearly an hour from the time we first joined the line, we finally got on the boat for the five minute ride to the island.  After touring the first island, you queue again to get back on the ferry for the 100 meter ride to the next island to see the 133-feet high statue of the Tamil poet, Thiruvalluvar.  We didn't really want to go to this island, but that's where the boat went.  We would have liked to have stayed on the boat and gone back to the mainland, but no, you must get off and get in another line in order to get back on the next boat.  By now, the temperature was 95 degrees and we were dishrags.  Fortunately, while we waited for the next ferry, I was able to score two cups of vanilla ice cream, which melted as fast as we ate it.  The ferry finally made it back to the mainland, and we only had to queue once more to drop our life preservers in the pile before FREEDOM!  Now it seems to me that this entire scenario could be avoided by building a footbridge.  Rather than taking a day and a half in various lines waiting for tickets, boats, etc, people could just walk the 400 meters to the island, have a look, then walk across a footbridge between the two islands, then walk back.  Save petrochemicals, save the environment, make people exercise, seems pretty win-win?

Keralan Backwaters and the Perfect Beach Town

Low bridge on the canal

When we woke up in the morning,we could hear the rain.  Crud.  Not really relishing the idea of spending a hot, steamy morning in a raincoat in a canoe, we decided to pack our gear and give it until 8:30 for the rain to stop, or we'd skip the trip and continue to Varkala later in the day.  Thankfully, the rain did stop, so we rode down to the jetty, parked the bikes, and got into an autorickshaw for the ride to the backwaters.  After about forty-five minutes of winding roads, we made it to Monroe Island, where we met our guide.  He led us down a narrow path to his canoe on one of the canals.  

We stepped into a wooden canoe that was about fifteen feet long and enjoyed a very peaceful meander through the backwaters.  As our guide paddled and poled the boat, he pointed out the many different plants that grow in the region, including cashew trees, nutmeg trees, peppercorn vines, cloves, vanilla vines, and turmeric.   

boat in process

We stopped to look at a canoe being built and marveled at the construction.  They are built from a type of jackfruit tree wood, and the joins are filled with coir fibers that are wrapped in coir rope and then stitched together.  The whole thing is then painted with some type of fish oil, creating a waterproof boat that if well tended, will last for a century (our ride was seventy-five years old). 

Colin helping make rope

Farther along, we stopped again, this time to see how the coir rope is made.  Colin even got to participate in the process, turning one of the spinning wheels for the rope maker.  We even got to keep the length of rope they made (I am sure we will put it to good use at some point on this trip).  The backwaters are so quiet compared to everywhere we've been!  Our guide pointed out various species of birds and more plants along the way.   We stopped to admire a rice paddy, prawn ponds, and pools filled with waterlilies.  Toward the end of our journey, he gave me a necklace he had just made from a waterlily he'd plucked.  It was a quietly memorable and very pleasant trip on the water, and then we rode back to town in an autorickshaw.
 

Once we got back into town, we raced back to the guesthouse to gather our gear and check out on time.  We hit the road and made our way to Varkala.  It was only about a twenty-five mile trip, and we got there by mid-afternoon, only to get lost in the winding paths along the cliff.  We asked directions to our hotel from several different people, and each of them pointed us down a different path.  After failing time after time to find it, we finally called the hotel and were assured we were very near, but the man on the other end of the phone said he would come and lead us there.  Which he did.   

life doesn't suck here

And he led us to a very nice, small hotel on the cliff overlooking the Arabian Sea.  We ended up spending three nights there, relaxing on our balcony, playing in the very temperate waves, snoozing on the beach, and eating really delicious seafood.  We also strolled along the cliff, wandered into town, looked at the big temple and tank, and just relaxed.  

the view from our balcony at sunset

Varkala is the most enjoyable beach town we've been to in India.  The touts are not too pushy, the food is great, there aren't too many tourists, and the water and beach are very clean.  We like.  Very much.  The one useful thing I did was scrub the grime off of Colin's jacket so it will hopefully breathe (plus it looks so much nicer now).  In the three days we spent in Varkala, I practically forgot what horns sound like.

Canoe Trip Plan B

Instead of hanging around in Cochin for another day in order to take our canoe ride through the backwaters, we decided to move south to the town of Kollam, from where we could also arrange a boat trip.  Kollam is about a hundred miles south of Cochin, and we figured we'd be able to ride there, book a boat trip for the following morning, and then ride to Varkala in the afternoon (only another 30 miles or so).  As we left Cochin, I noticed that traffic seemed lighter than I expected for morning in a city of its size.  And the traffic all along the way was just as light.  And then I realized that most of the shopfronts were shuttered.  But it was a pretty morning, and we enjoyed the more relaxed and quiet ride for a while.  At least until our fuel gauges indicated we were getting low, and we now noticed that like all the shops, all of the petrol stations were also closed, with tape barriers and empty buses and trucks blocking the entrances.  Not a good thing, since we haven't been carrying much extra fuel in our jerrycans in India sinceit has been readily available everywhere.  We did have a few liters in the cans and dumped it into the tanks and hoped it would be sufficient to get us to Kollam.  As we got closer to Kollam, we found open stations and made our way into town, found a cheap guesthouse, skipped the A/C for an unknown reason, and ate lunch at the restaurant and bakery downstairs.  

Afterward, we went out to find the government tourist office to book our canoe trip for the morning.  As we walked along the main road in town, we heard many voices chanting something or other.  It was a parade of school children of all ages, carrying banners and marching along the sidewalk.  Since it was strike day, I assume they were participating in some related event, but Colin and I were two of only a handful of spectators.  The first several contingents were all girls, dressed in very fancy, lacy, white dresses,  colorful saris, or their school uniforms (depending on which school they attend).  The boys classes all followed, dressed in their uniforms.  When they saw us, some of the girls started waving surreptitiously at us.  We waved back, and then more of the girls waved.  Then the giggling began.  Then the boys passed us, and they also waved, and smiled, and the column of students became disorderly.  The poor teachers, many of whom were nuns, tried their best to keep the kids focused, but it was obviously a difficult job.  The only group of students who paid us no attention were the very last - the marching band, and they were trying hard just to keep time and not fall off the sidewalk.  It was a pretty silly experience.  Once the “parade” had passed, we continued to the jetty to buy our tickets. 

Later, back at the hotel, we started to realize the error of out ways in not opting for AC.  Our room had no screens in the windows, and therefore, we couldn't open the windows to let in the slightly cooler air outside.  To make matters worse, when we finally did lie down, we discovered that under the sheet, the mattresses were vinyl covered.  It's going to be a sweaty night and not the good kind. 

Nice Rack! and Fort Cochin

my poor rack

Since Cochin is a rather large city, we wanted to take care of some maintenance issues while there.  First of all, from one of my oopsies or from hitting one too many craters, a weld on the rear rack on my bike cracked.  It needs repaired before the whole thing rattles to pieces, so we need to find someone to weld it.  Our riding gear is also in desperate need of attention.  As Colin mentioned, it's embarrassingly filthy.  We need to find someplace with a washing machine to de-filthify our jackets and pants.  John, the owner of our guesthouse, sent me off in the morning to talk to a friend of his with a laundry business with machines (most people do laundry by hand here)!  I carried my jacket up to the shop and unfortunately was told that there would be a three day wait before he'd have an opportunity to wash our things.   

my savior welders

So I returned to the guesthouse with the bad news and found Colin with the rack removed from my bike.  Upon closer examination, it wasn't the welds that had cracked, but the the actual metal that had torn next to the welds.  Of the three attachment points between the top plate and the tubular side frame on each side, two had completely torn and the other four had cracked.   We then set out for the welding shop, and twenty minutes later, found ourselves at the front door of the Welding House (they can fix anything but a broken heart).  The shop wasn't much to look at - there were two guys sitting out front, brazing brass fixtures, and from the recesses of the shop we could hear a couple of grinders running.  The one employee who spoke a few words of English, took the rack from us and gave it to the welder and his assistant, who did a very workmanlike job of repairing the tears and welding the cracks.  I assumed that they would remove the powdercoat from the affected areas before they started welding, but no.  In less than ten minutes, they were finished and handed the still red-hot rack to the employee who had assisted us earlier.  He asked if we wanted any grinding, which I declined, or if I would like black paint, to which I said yes.  He set the rack to cool for a minute and disappeared into the back, to return with a paintbrush and a can of paint.  Since the welding process had burned a lot of the powdercoating off, he quickly scraped the loose coating off with a broken sawblade before brushing on a thick coat of paint.  In less than fifteen minutes, we had our rack welded, painted, and returned to us.  Since I had not enquired about the cost of the repair before they started, I had no idea what this would cost.  Assuming we would pay a rush charge and the foreigner charge, I was expecting to pay between 10 and 15 USD, so Re and I both smiled when we were told the total was 80 rupees (1.60 USD)!  We thanked all the gentlemen profusely and made our way back to the guesthouse before noon.   

Dip nets in Fort Cochin

After dropping off the rack in the room, we headed to the ferry to Fort Cochin.  The ferry ride through the harbor was a short twenty minutes through a working port.  One thing the ferry ride did not provide was relief from the stifling heat and humidity of the day.  We spent the next two hours wandering through the crumbling, colonial buildings and along the waterfront, where we saw groups of men operating Chinese-style dip nets, which have been used in this area for the past seven hundred years.  We returned to Ernakulam in the late afternoon and went to the tourist office to book our all-day backwater boat trip for tomorrow.  But no.  Apparently, there will be a strike tomorrow to protest something or other.  The Indian political system is made up of a number of parties, and the ruling party in Kerala is the Communist Party of India.  And apparently, they like to strike whenever the mood hits.  Communism- the political system where everyone but the political leaders lose.  We were assured that the boat trips would resume the following day, but we didn't want to hang around that long, so we will have to work on Plan B.  Back at the room, Re suggested that she might try to hand wash our riding gear and decided to use her jacket as the guinea pig.  After removing the armor and emptying the pockets, she put her jacket in a bucket, added some soap and warm water, and did her best grape stomping impression.  Several changes of the rinse water later, she had one dramatically cleaner jacket.  We decided to stop now, because we weren't sure that they would dry overnight and it would be better to have just one damp jacket.  Since the paint had finally dried on the rack, I took the opportunity to reinstall it while Re went in search of some fruit.  I was pleased to find that the rack had not warped significantly from welding, as all the welding points still lined up.  Later that evening, we went out for yet another too freakin' hot dinner. 

Riding to Cochin (Eranakulam)

Diesel? You're bathing in it

Colin felt better after getting a good night of sleep but was still not 100%.  He was sell enough to ride, and we actually encountered the very nicest roads we have seen in India to date.  And the traffic was lighter than the previous day, so we could look around a little to enjoy the views of coconut groves and rivers along the way.  It did sprinkle on and off throughout the day, but never enough to actually wash our filthy, filthy, filthy riding gear.  Before we left Africa, our Dariens were in need of a washing.  Now after two weeks in India, they are turning gray.  The amount of dust and diesel being belched all over us has made washing our gear a priority.  The amount of pollution is incredible.  I am pretty sure that by the time we leave India, my lungs will look like those of a lifelong smoker.  When we ride, the fumes burn the eyes, and grit coats the teeth.  It's really disgusting.

 

Re has taken to riding with a bandana across her face to at least cut down on the amount of grime that gets stuck to her face every day, but I kind of like the Captain Jack Sparrow look.  Some nights we are amazed that hotels will even let us in the front door with as grubby as we are.  All kidding aside, I have found that I have developed an occasional cough since we arrived in India.  Around lunchtime we stopped in a small town for some lunch and had a nice time chatting with our fruit vendor and the rest of the usual crowd that gathered.   

We made it to Ernakulam around 4:30 pm and found a good guesthouse run by a friendly Royal Enfield rider.  While he was looking over our bikes, Re had the brilliant idea to ask if he knew of a local welder who could fix her rack.  She rightly figured that Royal Enfield riders would know all the repair shops, and John said he knew of one to send us to tomorrow.  After another dinner of too freakin' hot food, we returned to the room to have some Pepto Bismol tablets for dessert and watch Spider Man 3 on the tv.