Ancient Traditions

Yesterday we went down to the water where the Chinese-style fishing nets are set up. As you see from the photo, they use a cantilever system that is quite ingenious. We haven’t seen them in operation yet, but hope to one of these mornings when we have recovered completely from jet-lag.



The scene is very lively in this fishermen’s enclave. They pull their long black boats up on shore and lay a tarp on the sand. Then they work together to untangle the net into a huge puffy pile while removing the shrimp and small fish from the netting and throwing them onto the tarp. Some of the fishermen worked on their boats. Others carried fish in huge plastic containers filled with ice – taking them to the market area.


Makeshift tents provide some shade for the fish vendors and their catch. I recognized some of the fish (red snapper, shark, prawns, octopus) but many were new to me. Lots of haggling was going on and people roamed around checking out their options. It seemed like the bulk of the buying may have happened earlier, since not much money was exchanged for fish while I was there.

We writers straggled along the shore with our notebooks, finding shady spots in which to write down a few impressions, reflections, thoughts.

We're in Kochi!

Hats off to those who prayed for smooth flights and a safe journey for us! There wasn’t one moment of turbulence in the air and the only hitch was a little extra time spent at the airport in Mumbai, waiting for our delayed flight to Kochi. No problem there. We enjoyed talking to the chatty Dr. Kathryn Robson, an Oxford medical researcher who is now studying achromatopsia.

What made our 38 hours of travel bearable was the 9 hour layover in London, most of which was spent in a prone position at the Heathrow Sheraton. That’s where we took our first malarone pills, for prevention of malaria. You can see from Bronwen’s expression that we weren’t too thrilled about the possible side effects. But, not to worry – there haven’t been any. We took a cab back to the airport after our nap and shower, feeling ready to brave the next 9-hour flight to Mumbai.


A peek out the window about an hour away from the giant city revealed miles and miles of brown desert – not sure which one, but I’ll have to check a map. There was a distinct line between the pale blue of the sky and the brown smudge that announced the presence of the thirteen million residents of Mumbai. As we got closer to the ground my heart lurched at the sight of the patchwork of dark brown roofs, wedged together, helter-skelter, with seemingly no room between them. I imagined narrow alleyways between the overhanging eaves, where people find their way to the homes of their neighbors. Above you see the boundary of one of these neighborhoods that hugs the edge of the airport. Below you see Bronwen patiently enduring our circuitous route from the international to the domestic side of the Mumbai airport. SpiceJet was my favorite airline of the day:)


As appears to be the rule of thumb in developing or third world countries, the scariest part of travel is riding in taxis. The trip from the Kochi airport to our home at Chiramel Residency was no exception. Here there are no traffic rules other than the fact that you are supposed to drive on the left hand side of the road – at least 50% of the time, if there is on-coming traffic. There is a white line down the middle of some of the roads, but this must be for decoration only. Playing chicken with the oncoming traffic is the sport of the day, made more cheerful by the constant use of the horn, which, as in China, means everything from “watch out,” to “I hope you’re having a good day”. It may also mean, “Sorry I knocked your mirror off, but you should have moved over.”


Competition for highest adrenaline rush on the ride back from the airport was shared by a particular game of chicken after the sun had gone down - the oncoming lights were blinding – and the time we competed for part of the road with a moped and he lost. Fortunately, we were going slowly at this point, but the poor guy and his ride tipped over against the bank at the side of the road and a pedestrian had to help them right the bike. Unlike a similar American scene, where there would have been fists shaken and four-letter words shouted, this all happened in a most gracious manner, apologies all round. I leaned out the window to ask: “Are you all right??” and the driver smiled and gestured: no biggie.

Bronwen and I did our best to ignore the traffic patterns (read, lack thereof) and enjoy the exotic sights. For now I will just tell you my favorite sign: “Digital Shoppy” – and tell you about the mixture of smells. American air is very antiseptic and boring by comparison. Here we have a marvelous combination of, let me see, smoke of various kinds, spices, that tropical humid air smell, barnyard smells, nasty human odors, tropical flower fragrance, gas and oil traffic smells, and other as yet unidentifiable ones.

Soon after arrival we went with our group to a restaurant just a couple of doors from our place (which I will describe later) for a delicious meal (more about food later, as well).

Ouch!

OK, I'm not sure which hurts more - the shots or how much they cost! My arms were sore for a couple of days after the Hep A, Typhoid and Polio shots. The cost, which included some super-duper mosquito repellent, was almost $300, and I haven't yet paid for the Malarone pills which will help prevent me from getting malaria:) All of this is worth the price of course, when you consider the fact that some of these dread diseases are still alive and kicking in India.


Once again I was dealing with the ideal suitcase issue when I decided I'd better check the specs for British Airways. ARG! As it turns out, those who fly into and out of UK airports are only allowed ONE, and I repeat, ONE carry-on piece. Purse? Stuff it into your suitcase. Computer? Stuff it into large front pocket of your suitcase. The computer issue brought on the need to protect said valuable in a different way, since I won't have my handy dandy Samsonite computer bag (shoulder-style). Instead I had to purchase the little zipper case they sell at the Apple Store, especially for the 13" MacBook (see above - love it). So - that will slip nicely into the front pocket of my regulation-size rolling suitcase. This is going to be a "pack lightly" trip, since we don't want to mess with trying to find luggage in Mumbai, where we only have an hour and a half between flights.

Besides, we will be purchasing salwar kameez when we get there, so we can make a lame attempt at blending with the locals:)

Getting Ready

Getting ready to go to India for a mere ten-day stint is something I never expected to do. In fact, I had given up on the idea that I would ever make it to India, until my writing teacher, Martha, sent out an intriguing invitation. She would be leading a workshop in Kochi – on the Malabar Coast. This is the southwestern coast of India, near the southern tip, and it is where the spice trade route that we have all heard about originated. My friend, Susan, taught me a song about a beautiful maiden that lived on the coast of Malabar, but I didn’t know where it was. I’m somewhat amazed that I am actually going there, to the place where pepper and cardamom grow.


So – what to take? The women there wear lovely salwar kameez, long pants with a long tunic to match and sometimes a shawl that goes around the shoulders and head. Forget the sporty capris that I wore in China, or short skirts and other garb that reveals too much of the female form. My daughter, Bronwen, is going with me, so we are mulling this. Should we try to find salwar kameez here in Portland, or just take a couple of longish skirts or loose pants – then buy them there? More on that later. I’m including a photo here of they kind I prefer: pants not baggy, tunic with short sleeves for hot weather. Forget the high heels! Below you see the more baggy variety and more traditional cover-up. Still, the colors are lovely, don't you think?


There will be 9 women in our group: 7 writers plus our teacher, and a friend of Martha’s named Smita, who will guide us on some tours. We will write in the mornings and evenings and have the afternoons to do as we please: shop, nap, explore, write some more.

We are leaving the day after Christmas and will come back January 8th - in time to return to school. I have the blessing of my boss to miss a few days - one to recover from wicked jet-lag. Bronwen and I will be flying through London where we have a long layover, to Mumbai on British Airways (thanks for the frequent flyer miles, Matthew!) and then from Mumbai, we will fly to Kochi. On the way home we will fly across the country to Chennai (used to be Madras) and back through London.

Will we learn how to say thank you in Malayalam?