Tuesday, March 31st through Friday, April 3rd, 2009

Sometimes it takes a little push from someone to make a decision. Thus, I owe my adventures the first two weeks of April to my cousin Maria and my friend Sunitha here in Mumbai.

I traveled with Maria in Rajasthan in January and February, and she had just completed a two-week tour of Southern India when I met up with her . She encouraged me to not only keep traveling, but to check out whether Intrepid Travel (the company we booked with) was having any sales for the Southern India trip.

I checked when I got back from the north, and low and behold, the South Trip was on sale. Sunitha had been encouraging me to take advantage of visiting the south as well, as she grew up in various cities in the state of Tamil Nadu. So, I booked it, and on the 31st of March I found myself on a flight from Mumbai to Kochin in the state of Kerala.

After arriving in Kochin (Cochi) and having a much needed nap--where I dreamt of pouring rain, high speed Internet, and a huge luxury suite--and yes, I was still in India in my dream--I ventured out before the evening meet up with my new tour group. I stumbled upon a used bookstore where I was able to purchase three good reads, and had an excellent lunch of prawn noodles before meeting my roommate for the trip, Ioana from Montreal, Canada, who was only a few days into her retirement from her job as an IT Manager. I was hoping her retirement would start off as well as my semi-retirement has!

Our first full day of the tour we met with extremely hot temperatures--April in India is summer, after all, but after my breakfast of southern India specialty of Masala Dosa, our group of nine headed by ferry over to Fort Cochin, where we toured a Jewish synagogue as well as an archeological museum with historic Indian murals and St. Francis Church where Vasco de Gama‘s tomb is located. The highlight for me, though, was being able to pay a few rupees to some men on one of the Chinese Fishing Boats and reel in some BIG catch.


As you can see, our mammoth efforts only yielded a few fish, but I think the heat interfered with our skill. Also, the photo above is evidence of the height differential I have experienced since arriving here, which seemed for some reason even more prominent in the south.

A few of us made it over to Calm Restaurant, where the Bob Marley was on heavy rotation, and the service was slow but they had an interesting take on Diet Coke:

Since it was so hot, we decided to go over to another establishment for chai and dessert. The Teapot did not disappoint, and if ever back in Fort Cochin, which I hope to be someday, the Death by Chocolate is not to be missed.

That evening, we headed over to see some traditional Kathakali Dance, which was a very interesting performance (though quite long) and takes us through the process of putting on the makeup of the dancer, to his transformation, to his dance. Though things did get BIGGER and LONGER throughout, it was definitely unforgettable. The pictures really speak for themselves.

After sleeping off the Kathakali Dance performance, the next morning we braved our first local bus of the tour. This bus was nothing like I had experienced yet in India--it made the buses in Rajasthan seem like luxury coaches. However, I think the fact that I wasn’t feeling 100% and that my claustrophobia is getting worse in my old age contributed to some of my stress. Sooner than later we were able to disembark and load ourselves onto a lovely two-level boat and cruise through the Keralan Backwaters, on our way to stay at the home of Thomas Zachariah.

Thomas is a rice farmer whose family has had land in the Backwaters for many years. The home we stayed at was actually his sister’s, who was in England at the time of our visit. Though hot (did I mention, it was hot?), it was very relaxing in the Backwaters and it did not take me long to locate the hammock, which became my favorite spot quickly. Thomas and his family were generous hosts, and we were able to enjoy loads of lovely Southern India food while at their home, and also were able to take a walking tour around the village, past men repairing the fishing boats and the boats that the Mud Digger--yes, there is a caste of people who dig mud from the waters to make higher levees for when the waters rise--uses to scoop the mud into.


As the sun set, we walked for maybe 40 minutes breathing in the--gasp!--clean Indian air, and soon found ourselves in boats, serenaded by men from the village with local songs that told stories I was unable to decipher but was captivated by nonetheless (I did understand the song about the supercomputer, but I digress…)

There is a special kind of alcohol made from coconuts in the backwaters called toddy, and it is only sold in a few spots, so we rowed over to the Toddy store only to find that…alas…The Toddy Store was closed. Only slightly disappointed, we headed back to Thomas’ for dinner where the conversation ranged from unconscious people’s kidneys being extracted in bath tubs to Madagascar 2, supporting evidence to why I love tour groups.

The next morning I was feeling especially under the weather, so as we floated away from our homestay, I buried myself in a book and enjoyed the tranquility of the Backwaters. It is a truly special place, its quiet reminding me a lot of small town life back home.

Soon enough we were off again in SUVs to a different town because we were to have an extra activity that day--attending the engagement ceremony of our Group Leader, Vinit. Vinit is to be married at the end of June, and he agreed to have his parents arrange his marriage for him. Thus, our group was lucky enough to experience a traditional Indian engagement ceremony, where we also got to eat directly off banana leaves, which is a tradition in Southern India.


After the meal, where the nine of us were still eating when everyone else attending had long finished, we loaded back up in our SUVs for the start of our drive to Periyar National Park. Along the way though, we drove through the Western Ghats, where I was delighted to see a beautiful side of India I had yet to experience, and also hit up a wonderful banana stand.

There's always money in the banana stand.

I was however, pretty tired, but still content as this picture Roland snapped of me adequately exemplifies.

Give me music, I am happy.

Before we reached Periyar, we stopped at a Spice Garden operated by a man named Abraham, who was not only an informative tour guide (with extremely long ear hair), but fed us an amazing meal at his house, and I also ate one of the hottest, and smallest, red chili peppers I have ever had. Abraham’s Spice Garden had been featured on the BBC and the tour was a fascinating place to visit, as only a place growing purple peppers can be.

Vamos a la playa

Monday March 23rd, Tuesday March 24th, Wednesday March 25th

Goa is only a short flight from Mumbai (around 50 minutes) and is THE vacation destination for most Indians--besides “Are you married? No?! And you have no boyfriend??!!” the next most popular question I have received from people I meet in India is “Have you gone to Goa yet?“ So of course, we had to go.

We hit it at the end of the tourist season, so it wasn’t crowded and it was hot, but we didn’t mind too much. After another harrowing taxi ride from the airport to our hotel (yes, this seemed to be a theme for the week) we checked into our digs at the Ronil Royale (nice, clean budget hotel, minus the cockroach our second night) and walked around the area on Baga Beach where we were staying before making our way over to Britto’s Restaurant for a few beers while watching the sunset. A delightfully relaxing way to spend the afternoon, I highly recommend it. We hit a Portuguese restaurant for dinner called La Fontana that was cute, had excellent service (not always the norm in India), and delicious. Goa has a huge Portuguese influence, and the chocolate and bananas for dessert really did not disappoint.



Traveling in India, however, is not always smooth (reference aforementioned taxi rides here, also bumpy auto rikshaws). Our first full day in Goa, we headed to the beach early. A staff member at our hotel warned us the guys on the beach would try to charge us for the beach chairs, but that they were really free. Soon we found this was, indeed, the case, as our pleasant morning turned out to be a bit more intense after I engaged in some arguing with the Beach Chair Dudes who tried to charge us for our chairs. (As an aside, this week also marked the turning point for me in that I Started to Get Tougher with People Trying to Rip Me Off).


Eventually, we found a few that we did not have to pay for, but soon found that going to Goa at the end of tourist season did not ensure peace and quiet, but rather that seemingly everyone (kids, men, women, dogs) would try to sell you everything from pedicures to parasailing to Bob Marley t-shirts. Alas, the best recourse was to pretend to sleep, as reading or listening to music meant that you could, indeed, still be approached to buy something from the persistent vendors.

This little guy, however, was content sleeping under our chairs

We did decide, however, to do parasailing. Around noon we boarded a boat arranged by our very persistent new friend Mike who had staked his claim to our business around 9 a.m. by leaving a life jacket next to our chairs. A few men from the British Navy joined us in our parasailing adventure, which was fun but surprisingly peaceful--knowing nothing about parasailing prior to this venture, I had anticipated more of a thrill, but really it was totally calm and not all that thrilling at all, but the view was amazing, and I was still very excited about it.




We spent our afternoon eating great seafood and drinking big beers with our new parasailing friends and our favorite Goa waiter, Tomas. After some encouraging we also road the Banana Boat, which is where you straddle a long boat shaped like a banana and a bigger boat pulls you and tries to throw you off. Yes, this is as fun as it sounds, but we soon realized that the Arabian Sea is very, very salty.

HOLLA!

A banana boat. Booyeah.

The afternoon turned into evening with dinner, drinks, a lost cab driver, and Jes and I playing the role of heartbreakers to our British suitors. So sorry, dudes.

One day was enough beach action for us, so the next morning after our free hotel brekky we hired a driver (who told us to call him Steve, but his name was Santosh) to take us to the Anjunta Market nearby which is held every Wednesday. Despite the fact that it was HOT HOT HOT, we managed to get some killer deals. However, vendors were even more desperate to sell than we were to buy; most of our business went to the less-aggressive salespeople.

We caught a late lunch at Jaime’s Lunch Place, where we were the only patrons but I had the best vegetarian briyani I have had since arriving. We then got Steve/Santosh to drive us to Old Goa and hit up some historic churches and then to the city of Panjim where we stopped outside another church and at Blooming Dales (as a favor to Steve/Santosh) before having some sweet lime soda and lassi.

Yes we are representin’ with our Home Girl Mary

That night took us back to Britto’s for dinner this time, where the seafood reigned and where Steve/Santosh and his friend Nelson Mandela (so he dubbed himself) joined us for a drink and then a longer-than-planned motorcycle ride. Needless to say, that was the end of us hanging out with them. (In case you are keeping track, that’s Leah & Jes 2, Dudes 0 on the Heartbreaker’s Score Card).

Back in Bombay and Pfaffing Around

This post is long; thus, you can search by the following key words if you‘d rather do that than read the entire thing:

Documentary Film ** Gipsy Kings ** Richard Marx ** He’s Just Not That into You** Ghandi** Cabbies ** Valentine’s Day ** Cosmos ** Rick accident ** Paying off police** Skype** Friends ** Mumbai Attacks ** Tetanus shot

This last week (ok, now it has been almost 10 days) since I got back to Mumbai from my mostly Rajasthan trip in Northern India has gone by in a flash (much like an Indian auto rickshaw or cab that encounters any stretch of open road).

My first full day back from Delhi came with lots of unexpected delights. In the evening, Sunitha, Ashwyn and I decided to walk on the beach to a Veg-Only fast food joint; along the way, we note that there was a huge stage set up on a property bordering the beach (earlier I had seen a wedding processional go past the front of the house) with a band playing that Ashwyn thought sounded eerily similar to the Gipsy Kings. We proceeded to dinner nonetheless, where along the way I saw not just one, but three other weddings in progress (wedding season is, and this is no understatement, in full swing here). After a delicious meal of dosas and pana puri (a delicious new treat for me, pix here) and yes, my first nachos since leaving the states, we walked back on the beach toward the huge music stage and realized that it was indeed music of the Gipsy Kings. Not a bad gig to get a free Gipsy Kings concert while dancing on the beach under 1000s of stars with great friends (ignore the fact we weren't actually inside the wedding reception). I couldn’t have asked for a nicer welcome back to Bombay, though I did regret not grabbing my camera. (I did get a pic of the groom on a horse earlier in the day).

Saturday brought a Girl’s Day Out full of "Pfaffing Around" (which is currently leading the list as my Favorite India Saying). Basically, Pfaffing Around means having fun, wasting time, enjoying one’s self--I’ll let you put your own operational definition spin on it. Sunitha and my pfaffing included driving into the city and visiting a handmade paper store that had tons of unbelievable products at unbeatable prices. We also went to Elco Market in Bandra neighborhood that had more veg-only fast food (and more pani puri) and of course, Singal Scoop Exotic Ice Cream.


We also hit upon the Kala Ghoda Festival, which is an annual arts festival in Mumbai. There were some beautiful displays, and for anyone who has spent any time in India, you know how precious having Chai is--part of the daily fiber of life. Thus, for your viewing pleasure, a display of "Chai’na Town" from the Kala Ghoda Fest.


As I mentioned early on in my trip, Sunitha is a lecturer at Sophia Polytechnic College in the Social Communications Media program, a one-year post-undergrad intensive media studies program that enrolls about 40 women annually. We happened to run into one of her former students, who is a photojournalist for The Times of India, when we were at the Kala Ghoda Fest. This turned out to be an opportunity to view two of her photos as well as several other award winning photographs of the Mumbai terrorist attacks that began on November 26. The photos were amazing and a few artists’ statements also hung there. I haven’t written about the influence the attacks had on my decision to come to India because, though it was an area of concern, I had wanted to come before the attacks and still wanted to come after. The opportunity, though, to view the images and read the statements of people that were there, living it and covering it, was incredibly moving and something I will not forget.

Speaking of press coverage here, the papers, especially, are something to behold. Apparently sensational news is a welcome, normal, and expected thing here. Take for example, coverage of Valentine’s Day in India. Headlines screamed that the police force would be On Full Alert in Mumbai (which in fact, it was) because of fear that those who view themselves as the Moral Brigade would be out and about trying to rain on the parade of couples showing their affection. Despite the Kama Sutra deriving from here, India is a very conservative country, especially regarding PDA’s (maybe due to that long British occupancy). Also recently there were attacks on women drinking in bars in southern India, but with an awesome protest in reply involving pink knickers. So as absurd as it may sound, public affection is indeed, an area of concern here.


Such serious notions aside, I am sure you all are curious for me to return to my Pfaffing Around. I went to The Yoga Institute on Sunday which was founded in 1918. It consisted of first a large lecture and then a small yoga class that would likely be mild by some people’s standards, but felt very relaxing to me. In contrast, I later in the day visited a restaurant called BBQ Nation, where you keep your grilled kabobs warm on a grill on the table and cosmos are included in the lunch cost. It was fantastic.

Also this week I went to a documentary film workshop regarding a website that houses archival film footage from many documentary filmmakers in India. Some filmmakers spoke about their work, about the value of the website (pad.ma) and a few cultural studies folks presented on some of their film making. It took me back to grad school days, and I may have the opportunity to do some work while here with the website, so it was a good opportunity for me. A few days later I went to see a documentary about transgendered people living in India at a women's university nearby where I am staying; but it was 2 ½ hours long so the woman who told me about it (with the potential work for me) and I left after an hour to head for a coffee shop (called Out of the Blue--not sure if it is a Debbi Gibson reference or not) where I, again, was privy to hearing Richard Marx.

As I was leaving, I witnessed my second auto rickshaw accident since arriving here (the first was my first week here and was Rick on SUV; this one was Rick on Rick). Traffic in India, as I have mentioned is Insane. What is amusing though, is that they slammed into each other, get out, yell for a few minutes, then both get back in and drive away. If any of you have experienced traffic here, you will know what I mean; it's kind of the best course of action.

Film is everywhere in this city and an oft subject of conversation, and this week met with my first U.S. movie since my arrival. I unexpectedly happened upon “He’s Just NOT That Into You” on Wednesday and had a joyous (and sometimes tearful) time watching it, only wishing that some of the Winos were there with me to laugh and cry together. (I am, yes, a total sap).

I also was able to add to my Indian Wardrobe this week. So in addition to my collection of hippie skirts, I now have four kurtas made by and organization called Self-Employment Women’s Association. They are not based in Mumbai but have sales here occasionally. The beauty of the clothes was something to behold, as they are all handmade.

This week also brought the first time I was able to speak to--and see--anyone from back in the states! I Skyped with my friends Libby and Peeps and also spoke to my parents for the first time on the phone since I arrived. It was a great reconnect with all of them (if any of you reading care to Skype it up with me, just holla).

Decisions have also been made, after some mulling over, to continue to do some travel outside of Mumbai. Right now my next trip will be in less than three weeks, when I will fly to Melbourne, Australia to visit my Colorado friends Sarah and Gareth. There is also a food and wine fest there then, and S&G have brewed their own beer so I look forward to friends, fun, koala bears, kangaroos, drinks, and maybe some Crocodile Dundee sightings. I also booked a trip to tour Southern India; Sunitha grew up there, as did my friends Nanu and Poornima, and I have heard from Maria and others that is much different than the north. That will happen in the first 2 weeks of April. In between the Land Down Under and Southern India, Jessie, my good friend from Denver, is coming to visit and we are currently planning our Tall White Women Invasion of India. Indian men, beware.

Speaking of friends, before I left, at the "Dress Like Leah" Going Away Party, there was an “Anti-Sad Pants” jar (that I think was Laura’s idea), where my friends could leave me happy notes when I started missing home. I have, until this week, abstained from reaching into the Ziploc that I brought the notes in and reading them. Thus far, I have only read one (thank you Kristin and your reference to garlic Triscuits! I could almost taste them!) I also thought of Kentucky Bridget, who told me before I left that when she traveled for an extended period of time that Week 6 was when it got harder, or at least, a bit more lonesome. Though it may seem hard to imagine in a city of 16-20 million people, a pang of loneliness did hit me this week, but luckily, I still have several notes to read to tide me over, and it quickly passed.

Finally, I spent yesterday (Friday) in town, first chatting with Amber, a fellow U.S. citizen who does film editing; we are planning a get together before she leaves for Nepal in March and I will perhaps visit her there, too. I then proceeded to the Mani Bhavan, a small Gandhi museum which is actually a house where he spent significant time at while in Mumbai. Very different than the Gandhi Smriti in Delhi, it was still powerful though quaint. To be in the midst of where great minds spent their time always has a powerful effect, and though the Smriti in Delhi made me feel more at peace, I felt a connection to this small home in Mumbai where Gandhi time as well.

Speaking of connections, the remainder of my day included meeting two new friends. The first was Dipti, a woman my age, is my friend Angie’s cousin’s husband’s childhood friend (I kid you not). We had a delightful lunch (her ordering; always smart to let people here order for me, I have not been lead astray!) and will likely meet up again. She has her own clothing business and it was really nice to meet someone else my age.

After that, I first ventured upon a Broadband Surfing store which was a pleasant surprise, and then had cappuccino with Guarav, a creative type who studied film in the U.S. and Prague and works in the film industry here. He is also one of the lead Twitter posters in Mumbai (this connection thanks to Abby!) It’s been really nice to meet up with a few more people and make in-person connections.

My day wrapped up with Sunitha and I taking one of her student’s to get a tetanus shot (she had cut her foot on a rusty stair), then we had to pay off a cop because of illegally backing up on a road when we missed our lane (it was pretty awesome), and then I caught a cab back up to Juhu (with Sunitha’s help hailing it and translating for me). The cabbie must have been The Oldest Cabbie in Mumbai with The Oldest Cab. However, he was very sweet, and even gave me front door service while I pointed the last 4 turns out to him; an hour and 15 minute ride for only $3 U.S.

There is so much more I could say, but let’s leave it at this for now, which is probably already too much. Finally, a few random asides:

*I have heard more Bryan Adams in India the last month and a half then I have since I used to listen to “Summer of ‘69” on repeat in Jr. High.

*Things like incessant honking, dodging piles of crap, and tons of stray dogs are starting to be expected and not phase me (OK, the dogs still phase me).

*I love the fact that a hot-pink, decked out four door jalopy of a car can pull up next to me on the road and I don’t even think twice about it. After all, people in India LOVE their flair, more even, than me.

Cardboard Cut-Out of Gandhi