India: Tamil Nadu and Kerala, Dec 10 to 20, 2005

We flew into Chennai with some threat of arriving there at the same time as a late tropical storm coming from the East, in an unusual extension of the monsoon season. But our weather was good, and next thing we knew we were in a taxi to our first night in India. Our friend Chino had reserved a nice hotel to make our transition easier, after about 24 hours of travel. Just one night in Chennai, and the next day I tasted the streets and amazing traffic walking to an Airtel store to get a sim card for my new GSM phone. A touch more complex than expected, partly because the locals' idea of store hours is a bit casual.

The evening of the 10th, we met Chino and Vasantha and boarded an express train for an overnight to Madurai. (Indians must be the best drivers in the world: Our taxi to the train station was awesome, weaving through throngs of onrushing vehicles of all sorts, playing communication melodies on their horns. It is a remarkable, dynamic tapestry of close calls. Indeed the evidence for "best drivers" is in their survival against what looks like great odds.) Chino had reserved a 2-person A/C coupe for us, and that looked nice, but when the conductor came, we found that reservations don't hold if a government minister comes along. So we spent the night sharing a 4-person compartment with a couple of pleasant gentlemen, one of whom was, ironically, a retired minister.

In Madurai we visited the amazing, huge temple complex. Beautiful towers maybe 75 meters high, covered in a plethora of gods and complex creatures, carved in stone and painted in bright colors probably renewed every year or two. Thousands of people, crowds, and because this was an auspicious day, there were many, many families celebrating marriages. More color, and beautiful clothes and garlands, worn by young couples with slightly tentative smiles, about to enter their new roles. The hall of 1000 pillars, full of ancient sculptures, magnificent Shivas and Parvathis, and Ganeshes. A nice introduction to the grandeur of India's multiplicity of religions and monuments.

Another car, this time through the Western Ghat, beautiful mountains too difficult for railroads. Small villages, farming, oxen and goats, people working close to the land.

Periyar wildlife reserve. Periyar house one night, then Lake Palace, the summer home of a Maharaja, now a guesthouse with 6 rooms, so far from everything that we arrive by boat, and except when similar boats arrive we hear no motors, no machines. Just birds, and wind in the trees. The beginning of the flowers. We've seen some before, but here there is profusion, and great trees covered with huge orange blossoms, bougainvillea drifting over the eaves, mysterious blooms, and even an egg-bearing cactus (marvelous, incongruous, very funny). We took a lake cruise, but saw no elephants, though one of the boatmen pointed to one we should see. Lots of Sambar, large elegant deer, and many wild boars, who also nosed around our hotel.

On to the lake district, where our home for a night is Kayaloram, a heritage hotel (buildings 150 years old, with magnificent ornate locks that I forgot to photograph. Just beautiful, sitting on the lakeshore, flowers again, including great clusters of orchids on the trunks of the palm trees. Boats plying the waters, long and narrow, all of the same design, like a canoe with upturned prow and stern, very elegant, and in all sizes -- with one man apparently fishing, or 25 going to work or school. By our shore are two or three houseboats, one of which will be our home for the next night. These are thatched houses of great elegance, supple curves and intricate design, demonstrations of the variety of uses of the cocoanut palm. When you have a chance to see one item after another, brooms and beams and cloth and rooftops, pure drink and delicious snack, you see the palm in its element as a constant component of Indian life in the south.

The houseboats are actually recent, if I understand correctly, only 12 of 15 years, but they are beautiful tourist attractions and their number is growing -- we saw two or three under construction. They have the same kind of longboat with upturned ends for a hull, reminiscent of Viking prow and stern, originally made for transporting great loads, for example for dredging materials from the channels that were made 100 or 150 years ago when converting the shallow lake to rice paddies separated or joined by these canals. Barely conceivable labors. And yet, the next morning, there was a long boat with two men, parked, anchored with long bamboo poles, not far from our houseboat. They were, I suspect, doing exactly the same kind of dredging as was done 100 years ago. They had a long bamboo pole, 7 or 8 meters, with a strong metal loop and a net sack at the end. A rope was tied to the loop, and while one man forced the pole down into the sand, the other pulled the rope and together they scooped up and lifted a sack of sandy mud into the boat. They started about 7 in the morning, and were still working at noon when we cruised by a second time. They had by then a couple of yards of sand in the boat, and would soon be done because its gunnels, the sides were now close to the water level.

On to Cochin, where we had time for a walk on the seaside. Great frames of long poles rotate to dip large nets into the sea. They are lifted again with the help of counterweight stones. While we watched they had no luck, but the teams of fishermen hope for a catch, which apparently would be used immediately in the stalls lining the streets. We did a little shopping too, though not as much as the hundreds of vendors hoped. I found a cloth hat for 125 rupees (about $2.50), and with Vasantha's help, Lefty bought a long skirt and a pretty blue and white top, also for tiny sums.

In Cochin we boarded the overnight express to Bangalore, this time in a three-tier A/C car. Each compartment has 8 bunks, three on each side and two across the aisle. Lefty and I had lowers, and Chino climbed gracefully into an upper bunk (Vasantha had gone back to Mumbai). An interesting experience, quite ordinary for Indians, to share sleeping quarters with several strangers. As always, they were nice. Lefty had a lovely conversation with a lady going to visit her grandchildren, and I got a gentle and helpful demonstration of efficient bed making (a boy brought two sheets and a blanket for each passenger). Some of us ordered the train meal, which was a huge portion of rice and some fiery sambar or rassam and masala. I could eat only a little, but my companions consumed the lot with gusto, and then at 8:30 or so, the seats were folded up and down, beds made, and everybody went to sleep, a little fitfully perhaps, but next thing we knew it was 6:30 and Bangalore.