The Rajaguru Family and me
Deb at the Dalida Maligawa
Rosemary, me and Maya
Kandy Town
Monday, June 29, 2009
Waves in Arugam Bay
We are now in Arugam Bay, the surfing capital of Sri Lanka. It took 3 separate hair-raising buses, totaling about 11 hours - over the river and through the woods to get here. We descended about 6,000 feet, cleared four armed security checkpoints and passed herds of WILD elephants (50+!) and peacocks before arriving to a land of cheap cabana huts, big waves and lots of surfers!
Our tuk-tuk driver at the end of the trip seemed to know everybody we passed. Soon, our cramped, glorified motorbike was filled by one Sinhalese driver, one Muslim Tamil, an armed soldier with an AK-47 (or some other VERY large gun), two overstuffed backpacks, a travel guitar and Paul and I - Lonely Planet in hand.
Arugam Bay was hit hard by the tsunami. On a regular day, the waves are HUGE and crash hard on the sand - often taking you with them. If you dare the water, as we did today with boogie boards, your suit will inevitably be filled with buckets of sand ....if it stays on at all! Though I love the water, the strong waves are a bit haunting as I try and fight the undertow. I have retired my board!
Most of the hotels have been repaired and further inland, homes have been constructed by international NGOs. The rooftops are painted with big, loud block letters declaring which UN/EU agency donated the home. People openly share stories about the tsunami and its aftermath is still apparent.
The beach is a bit more expensive than India or other parts of Sri Lanka, but with our own Cabana, a private outdoor shower, a warm breeze and a nice hammock - it indeed feels like a vacation
Our tuk-tuk driver at the end of the trip seemed to know everybody we passed. Soon, our cramped, glorified motorbike was filled by one Sinhalese driver, one Muslim Tamil, an armed soldier with an AK-47 (or some other VERY large gun), two overstuffed backpacks, a travel guitar and Paul and I - Lonely Planet in hand.
Arugam Bay was hit hard by the tsunami. On a regular day, the waves are HUGE and crash hard on the sand - often taking you with them. If you dare the water, as we did today with boogie boards, your suit will inevitably be filled with buckets of sand ....if it stays on at all! Though I love the water, the strong waves are a bit haunting as I try and fight the undertow. I have retired my board!
Most of the hotels have been repaired and further inland, homes have been constructed by international NGOs. The rooftops are painted with big, loud block letters declaring which UN/EU agency donated the home. People openly share stories about the tsunami and its aftermath is still apparent.
The beach is a bit more expensive than India or other parts of Sri Lanka, but with our own Cabana, a private outdoor shower, a warm breeze and a nice hammock - it indeed feels like a vacation
Nostalgia in Kandy
After monitoring the situation in Sri Lanka over the past six months, and having contacted my host brother, Deshan, Deb and I decided to head down for a week long visit to the land of serendipity.
The war is effectively over, as the LTTE has been squarely defeated and Prabhakran killed. I will only say that if the killing has truly stopped, I am glad, but as in every war, there is no innocence.
Returning to a place that I love has filled me with nostalgia. I have again been humbled by the beauty and generous spirit of the Sri Lankan people. It feels a little bit like returning home.
Deb and I went directly from the airport to my host families house in Kiribathkumbura, about a three hour bus ride. Walking up to the front door, eyes alight and weighed down by our bags, I yelled, "Deshan! Amma!", and after half a minute began to hear the shuffling of footsteps from within. Deshan opened the door with his arms out, calling back, "Amma, Paul has come!"
Returning conjures complex emotions. Time has passed, six years, and slight changes permeate. Hair styles, furniture, a new building next door. Confronted with both the constancy and change of returning, I am thankful.
The war is effectively over, as the LTTE has been squarely defeated and Prabhakran killed. I will only say that if the killing has truly stopped, I am glad, but as in every war, there is no innocence.
Returning to a place that I love has filled me with nostalgia. I have again been humbled by the beauty and generous spirit of the Sri Lankan people. It feels a little bit like returning home.
Deb and I went directly from the airport to my host families house in Kiribathkumbura, about a three hour bus ride. Walking up to the front door, eyes alight and weighed down by our bags, I yelled, "Deshan! Amma!", and after half a minute began to hear the shuffling of footsteps from within. Deshan opened the door with his arms out, calling back, "Amma, Paul has come!"
Returning conjures complex emotions. Time has passed, six years, and slight changes permeate. Hair styles, furniture, a new building next door. Confronted with both the constancy and change of returning, I am thankful.
MJ and Kandy
"Have you heard the news?"
It is 7am and the endearing owner of the guesthouse approaches us with coffee and an excited grin.
"Have you heard the news?" he repeats
We respond with a pre-caffeinated, "What news?"
"Michael Jackson is dead!!"
The morning serenity of Kandy is interrupted in a New York minute with my alarmed, "What?!?!!?"
"Yes, a heart attack, he was only 50" the owners says with an even bigger smile. The smile is partly the Sri Lankan way and partly his own excitement about being able to share news about an American icon with us.
I sit in shock. Thoughts of singing, "It don't matter if you're black or white" in the mirror rush to mind. I was actually scared of the Thriller video as a child. The album Scream came out when Kate got her lisence and the music brings waves of nostalgia of driving with she and Tracey Michaels around Westchester singing along to, "All I want to say is that they don't really care about us".
While I am flooded with memories of karaoke renditions of Man in the Mirror, Paul grins and says, "The American media is going to go crazy". No doubt he is right.
We spent 4 days in Kandy, Sri Lanka - the city in which Paul spent 6 months studying abroad in 2003. Since then, he has often spoke of Kandy as an idealic kingdom in the mountains with the perfect climate, good-natured people and just the right amount of busyness. So is his love for the city that when we read the Sunday NYTimes I often catch Paul looking up property in the area. Prior to arrival, a slight part of me worried that he had built Kandy up in his head and that the magical land would seem a bit less so after 6 years of living. This is a fair assumption...for someone who has not been to Kandy!
The city is delightful! Complete sidewalks line the streets, pedestrians have rights and drivers assume that the art is dependent on vision, not hearing.
The quiet $.67 bus ride (2 hours) from the airport had us traversing mountains, climbing past tea estates into the clouds where the climate is cool and the clouds hang low before the sun burns them away.
We took the bus straight to Paul's host family's home where we would have dinner. Paul eagerly looked out the window of the bus and I soon realized he had no bloody recollection of where to get off. How would we tell the bus driver where to drop us if nothing looked familiar? One turn of the corner later and he jumped up grabbing me with him. The driver slowed just enough for us to hop off the bus without it coming to a full stop. This is the Sri Lankan way.
One of my favorite joys of the trip so far has been watching people's reaction to Paul's return. The evening unfolded in such a way that is one I hope Paul will never forget. I will certainly do my best to make sure he doesn't.
Deshan, Paul's host brother open the door and beamed, "PAUL!" Seconds later, a delightful, petite Sri Lankan woman flew into the room - arms in the air, dancing - "It's my Paul! It's my Paul!" The joy in the eyes of the Rajagurus made me understand why this felt like such a homecoming to Paul.
And then we were fed. Jewish grandmas and the world over - beware! Nobody can push food on you like a Sri Lankan amma! And once you try the food, you won't want to stop eating! Coconut shavings mixed with lime and chili - lentil curries - egg hoppers and apa - they are all delicious!! The family looked a bit dismayed at the meal when Amma said, "I did not add spice, Debbie can't eat. Not yet." "No spice" in Sri Lankan terms translates to spicy in the rest of the world. The food made the lips tingle just enough to want more. Paul later confirmed that Amma went VERY easy on me!
The next day we headed to the ISLE Center where Paul took most of his classes. There, we were greeted by Rosemary with same warmth as the night before at the Rajagurus. She asked questions about Obama while we asked about the end of the war and the future of the program. THe overwhelming sentiment is that the West is being far too harsh in criticizing Sri Lanka about the human rights of the internally displayed persons, which there are approximately 300,000 of. I kept my mouth shut!
Any return to where one studies abroad would not be complete without a visit to your old stomping grounds -the local pub. In Kandy, those stomping grounds are creatively named, "The Pub". On our walk there, Paul slowed his pace and a smile spread across his face. From the ground I hear, "Paul! My man!" A small, bearded Sri Lankan man, crippled in the legs is smiling warmly at Paul. He is sucking the very end of a cigarette and his smile exposes a toothless grin. Bevis is an artist - sans legs, though we are not sure how. The locals greet him and shake his hand. He clearly remembers Paul well and without prompting asks Paul about his family, guitar playing and his studies.
We arrive at the Pub and the ever-curious wife in me begins asking questions, "Uhmmmm...how do you know him"? Stories unfold from studying abroad about the artist community, weekend trips, the street community, etc. Our respective study abroad experiences - mine in Geneva with the UN, and Paul's in Kandy could not have been more different. Nostalgia overwhelms us as we sip a proper draught beer.
Our time in Kandy also included a visit to an elephant orphanage, making friends with some traveling Slovenians and and a daytrip to Nuwera Eliya.
The average visitor at the elephant orphanage is approximately 7 years old in a white school uniform, accompanied by 70+ classmates. We soon realized we were a far more interesting spectacle to behold than the 90+ elephants milling about. Before long, the questions come, "Hello. How are you? What country?" We are given rambutans (cool looking little fruits) by little girls who scurry away in a fit of giggles and wait until we eat them. The 60 year old ivory tusked elephant touching distance away is ignored by them as we snap away pictures.
Nuwer Eliya is a 3 hour bus-ride up the mountains - in "up country" and is considered to be Sri Lanka's little England given its damp, rainy climate. Hearing this from Kandy I could not imagine being cold, but lo and behold, immediately upon arrival I dawned all three of my long-sleeved layers and my plastic poncho from the Imperial Ming hotel in Thailand. I was about to experience Little England in style!
Little England could not have been a better daytrip! We hiked up a mountain for 90 minutes straight without seeing people, cars and without sweating! Our appreciation of the small town and its quaint gardens was complete when we found a Pub that served dark, chocolatey stout! Our first TV in 3 weeks was CNN News. As expected, news of Michael Jackson consumed the airways . Needless to say, we had missed the stout far more than the news!
Next stop: Arugam Bay
It is 7am and the endearing owner of the guesthouse approaches us with coffee and an excited grin.
"Have you heard the news?" he repeats
We respond with a pre-caffeinated, "What news?"
"Michael Jackson is dead!!"
The morning serenity of Kandy is interrupted in a New York minute with my alarmed, "What?!?!!?"
"Yes, a heart attack, he was only 50" the owners says with an even bigger smile. The smile is partly the Sri Lankan way and partly his own excitement about being able to share news about an American icon with us.
I sit in shock. Thoughts of singing, "It don't matter if you're black or white" in the mirror rush to mind. I was actually scared of the Thriller video as a child. The album Scream came out when Kate got her lisence and the music brings waves of nostalgia of driving with she and Tracey Michaels around Westchester singing along to, "All I want to say is that they don't really care about us".
While I am flooded with memories of karaoke renditions of Man in the Mirror, Paul grins and says, "The American media is going to go crazy". No doubt he is right.
We spent 4 days in Kandy, Sri Lanka - the city in which Paul spent 6 months studying abroad in 2003. Since then, he has often spoke of Kandy as an idealic kingdom in the mountains with the perfect climate, good-natured people and just the right amount of busyness. So is his love for the city that when we read the Sunday NYTimes I often catch Paul looking up property in the area. Prior to arrival, a slight part of me worried that he had built Kandy up in his head and that the magical land would seem a bit less so after 6 years of living. This is a fair assumption...for someone who has not been to Kandy!
The city is delightful! Complete sidewalks line the streets, pedestrians have rights and drivers assume that the art is dependent on vision, not hearing.
The quiet $.67 bus ride (2 hours) from the airport had us traversing mountains, climbing past tea estates into the clouds where the climate is cool and the clouds hang low before the sun burns them away.
We took the bus straight to Paul's host family's home where we would have dinner. Paul eagerly looked out the window of the bus and I soon realized he had no bloody recollection of where to get off. How would we tell the bus driver where to drop us if nothing looked familiar? One turn of the corner later and he jumped up grabbing me with him. The driver slowed just enough for us to hop off the bus without it coming to a full stop. This is the Sri Lankan way.
One of my favorite joys of the trip so far has been watching people's reaction to Paul's return. The evening unfolded in such a way that is one I hope Paul will never forget. I will certainly do my best to make sure he doesn't.
Deshan, Paul's host brother open the door and beamed, "PAUL!" Seconds later, a delightful, petite Sri Lankan woman flew into the room - arms in the air, dancing - "It's my Paul! It's my Paul!" The joy in the eyes of the Rajagurus made me understand why this felt like such a homecoming to Paul.
And then we were fed. Jewish grandmas and the world over - beware! Nobody can push food on you like a Sri Lankan amma! And once you try the food, you won't want to stop eating! Coconut shavings mixed with lime and chili - lentil curries - egg hoppers and apa - they are all delicious!! The family looked a bit dismayed at the meal when Amma said, "I did not add spice, Debbie can't eat. Not yet." "No spice" in Sri Lankan terms translates to spicy in the rest of the world. The food made the lips tingle just enough to want more. Paul later confirmed that Amma went VERY easy on me!
The next day we headed to the ISLE Center where Paul took most of his classes. There, we were greeted by Rosemary with same warmth as the night before at the Rajagurus. She asked questions about Obama while we asked about the end of the war and the future of the program. THe overwhelming sentiment is that the West is being far too harsh in criticizing Sri Lanka about the human rights of the internally displayed persons, which there are approximately 300,000 of. I kept my mouth shut!
Any return to where one studies abroad would not be complete without a visit to your old stomping grounds -the local pub. In Kandy, those stomping grounds are creatively named, "The Pub". On our walk there, Paul slowed his pace and a smile spread across his face. From the ground I hear, "Paul! My man!" A small, bearded Sri Lankan man, crippled in the legs is smiling warmly at Paul. He is sucking the very end of a cigarette and his smile exposes a toothless grin. Bevis is an artist - sans legs, though we are not sure how. The locals greet him and shake his hand. He clearly remembers Paul well and without prompting asks Paul about his family, guitar playing and his studies.
We arrive at the Pub and the ever-curious wife in me begins asking questions, "Uhmmmm...how do you know him"? Stories unfold from studying abroad about the artist community, weekend trips, the street community, etc. Our respective study abroad experiences - mine in Geneva with the UN, and Paul's in Kandy could not have been more different. Nostalgia overwhelms us as we sip a proper draught beer.
Our time in Kandy also included a visit to an elephant orphanage, making friends with some traveling Slovenians and and a daytrip to Nuwera Eliya.
The average visitor at the elephant orphanage is approximately 7 years old in a white school uniform, accompanied by 70+ classmates. We soon realized we were a far more interesting spectacle to behold than the 90+ elephants milling about. Before long, the questions come, "Hello. How are you? What country?" We are given rambutans (cool looking little fruits) by little girls who scurry away in a fit of giggles and wait until we eat them. The 60 year old ivory tusked elephant touching distance away is ignored by them as we snap away pictures.
Nuwer Eliya is a 3 hour bus-ride up the mountains - in "up country" and is considered to be Sri Lanka's little England given its damp, rainy climate. Hearing this from Kandy I could not imagine being cold, but lo and behold, immediately upon arrival I dawned all three of my long-sleeved layers and my plastic poncho from the Imperial Ming hotel in Thailand. I was about to experience Little England in style!
Little England could not have been a better daytrip! We hiked up a mountain for 90 minutes straight without seeing people, cars and without sweating! Our appreciation of the small town and its quaint gardens was complete when we found a Pub that served dark, chocolatey stout! Our first TV in 3 weeks was CNN News. As expected, news of Michael Jackson consumed the airways . Needless to say, we had missed the stout far more than the news!
Next stop: Arugam Bay
Photos of Goa and Hampi
Goa
Near Arambul Beach in Goa
Beautiful Hampi
Queen's lotus palace, Hampi
Hampi ruins
Temple in Hampi
Deb in Hampi!
Our rock sculpture
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The headbob
In most of my travels, the smile has been the ubiquitous greeting of respect and welcome.
In India - it is the headbob.
With a slight left/right movement of the head (think Bobble Head give-aways at hockey/baseball games), inquisitive eyes will be instantly transformed into beaming smiles. To date, I have found it the universal cure to unwanted male attention.
As Paul mentioned, in Cochin the buses and ferries were segregated by gender. I am surrounded by the beautiful patterns and colors of saris. Hair beautifully washed and pulled back with flowers. Babies are passed around to strangers, or whoever has a more convenient seat to hold a small child. Fuschia mixed with turquoise next to vivid greens and golds. New York black has no place in India! I look back to catch Paul's eye and am greeted by a sea of male observers all dressed in the standard male buttondown...and a lodji (think short serong). Paul and I bobble heads to each other and the back of the bus smiles together and bobbles back. In a country that makes no attempts at gender neutrality, these smiles are priceless.
The bobble - which I am slowly mastering, illicits a different reaction among women. Sometimes it is a slow smile that lingers. More often then not - and especially if I am the first to do the bob - I will be greetd by a fit of giggles. I am still learning the rules - much to many locals' enjoyment.
Before India, the most terrifying car ride I had ever taken was a taxi from Shanghai airport to downtown. Accustomed to Asia, Mom and Dad looked unfazed while I gripped the headboard with white knuckles, praying I would leave the videogame-like experience alive. This terrifying car ride even trumped an experience in Nicaragua, when Bonnie Gordon and I swirved out of the way of a large, previously cemented metal pole that had fallen out of the garbage truck in front of us. We joked of the videogame experience to make light of the situation, but by no means did it make the rides more 'enjoyable' per se.
Compared to India, those videogames are for guppies.
Whether in a bus, taxi, tuk-tuk or as a pedestrian, the street experience is a terrifying and noisy one here. We have learned that the honk means:
hello.
i am passing.
my car is bigger than yours.
you are driving too slow. see you at temple.
fish for sale.
thanks for letting me pass you.
the bus is here.
and last but not least - holy bloody hell - move out off the way before I hit you.
As summarized by the book Holy Cow, trucks and buses are the kings of the road. Pedestrians and bikes are at the bottom of the 'highway' caste system. The more steel in your vehicle frame, the more permission you have to drive like a total lunatic. This was confirmed during our 10+ hour government bus ride to magical Hampi. Everyone else better get out of the way if a bus or truck is coming or you're squat. The only exception to this seems to be with the cow. Everyone stops for the holy cow
When traveling, I am often dubious of men that approach to start a conversation. This is not always the case here. Sure, there are some that inevitably will turn the conversation into a request to come see the shop, or 'use my rickshaw', or use the opportunity to just look a bit closer. But what we have also found is a desire to practice English - with two main questions: "Hello. How are you? What country? Nice to meet you. Bye bye." End of conversation.
We have spent the past 2 days in Hampi - marveling in the unique rock formations. We could spend at least 4 more days here walking among the rocks and temples, but we are off to Bangalore tonight to catch a flight to Sri Lanka. Hampi is our first stop where you can feel the waiting of the monsoon. The land is dry and the crops clearly need more rain. To date, our monsoon of a summer has been somewhat of an anomaly - the sun shines bright in the day and rain comes to lull us to bed at night. Given the monsoon nightmares shared by friends, we realize how incredibly lucky we have been! But for the sake of Hampi, I hope rain comes soon - especially as we head north!! :)
When not exploring, Paul has taught me how to play chess and we have been glued to our books. Paul is reading Shantaram and I am reading Magnificent City: Lost and Found Bombay. Both are gripping!
More pics of Hampi to come.
In India - it is the headbob.
With a slight left/right movement of the head (think Bobble Head give-aways at hockey/baseball games), inquisitive eyes will be instantly transformed into beaming smiles. To date, I have found it the universal cure to unwanted male attention.
As Paul mentioned, in Cochin the buses and ferries were segregated by gender. I am surrounded by the beautiful patterns and colors of saris. Hair beautifully washed and pulled back with flowers. Babies are passed around to strangers, or whoever has a more convenient seat to hold a small child. Fuschia mixed with turquoise next to vivid greens and golds. New York black has no place in India! I look back to catch Paul's eye and am greeted by a sea of male observers all dressed in the standard male buttondown...and a lodji (think short serong). Paul and I bobble heads to each other and the back of the bus smiles together and bobbles back. In a country that makes no attempts at gender neutrality, these smiles are priceless.
The bobble - which I am slowly mastering, illicits a different reaction among women. Sometimes it is a slow smile that lingers. More often then not - and especially if I am the first to do the bob - I will be greetd by a fit of giggles. I am still learning the rules - much to many locals' enjoyment.
Before India, the most terrifying car ride I had ever taken was a taxi from Shanghai airport to downtown. Accustomed to Asia, Mom and Dad looked unfazed while I gripped the headboard with white knuckles, praying I would leave the videogame-like experience alive. This terrifying car ride even trumped an experience in Nicaragua, when Bonnie Gordon and I swirved out of the way of a large, previously cemented metal pole that had fallen out of the garbage truck in front of us. We joked of the videogame experience to make light of the situation, but by no means did it make the rides more 'enjoyable' per se.
Compared to India, those videogames are for guppies.
Whether in a bus, taxi, tuk-tuk or as a pedestrian, the street experience is a terrifying and noisy one here. We have learned that the honk means:
hello.
i am passing.
my car is bigger than yours.
you are driving too slow. see you at temple.
fish for sale.
thanks for letting me pass you.
the bus is here.
and last but not least - holy bloody hell - move out off the way before I hit you.
As summarized by the book Holy Cow, trucks and buses are the kings of the road. Pedestrians and bikes are at the bottom of the 'highway' caste system. The more steel in your vehicle frame, the more permission you have to drive like a total lunatic. This was confirmed during our 10+ hour government bus ride to magical Hampi. Everyone else better get out of the way if a bus or truck is coming or you're squat. The only exception to this seems to be with the cow. Everyone stops for the holy cow
When traveling, I am often dubious of men that approach to start a conversation. This is not always the case here. Sure, there are some that inevitably will turn the conversation into a request to come see the shop, or 'use my rickshaw', or use the opportunity to just look a bit closer. But what we have also found is a desire to practice English - with two main questions: "Hello. How are you? What country? Nice to meet you. Bye bye." End of conversation.
We have spent the past 2 days in Hampi - marveling in the unique rock formations. We could spend at least 4 more days here walking among the rocks and temples, but we are off to Bangalore tonight to catch a flight to Sri Lanka. Hampi is our first stop where you can feel the waiting of the monsoon. The land is dry and the crops clearly need more rain. To date, our monsoon of a summer has been somewhat of an anomaly - the sun shines bright in the day and rain comes to lull us to bed at night. Given the monsoon nightmares shared by friends, we realize how incredibly lucky we have been! But for the sake of Hampi, I hope rain comes soon - especially as we head north!! :)
When not exploring, Paul has taught me how to play chess and we have been glued to our books. Paul is reading Shantaram and I am reading Magnificent City: Lost and Found Bombay. Both are gripping!
More pics of Hampi to come.
Goa & Hampi
Deb and I have had a whirlwind of a week. We first took an overnight sleeper train from Kerala to Goa, followed by two buses to Anjuna Beach in the north of the state. Goa has only been part of India since 1961, when the Portuguese were forced by the Indian army to give up control. Its beaches were discovered by roving hippies from Europe and the United States in the 1960s and 70s, and have been inundated with tourists ever since. In the 1990s, Goa was infamous for its huge rave parties. It has since calmed down some, largely because of regulatory steps taken by the government.
From Goa, we took a 12 hour government bus due east to the medieval town of Hampi. Hampi was once the site of a large kingdom that stretched west to the Arabian coast and south to the Indian Sea. It is famous for its temples and unbelievable topography. Huge boulders balance one on top of the other, surrounded by cactus, banana groves, and palm trees. I will have to wait to upload photographs until we are in Bangalore tomorrow, as it is not allowed at this internet service.
Until then...
From Goa, we took a 12 hour government bus due east to the medieval town of Hampi. Hampi was once the site of a large kingdom that stretched west to the Arabian coast and south to the Indian Sea. It is famous for its temples and unbelievable topography. Huge boulders balance one on top of the other, surrounded by cactus, banana groves, and palm trees. I will have to wait to upload photographs until we are in Bangalore tomorrow, as it is not allowed at this internet service.
Until then...
Monday, June 15, 2009
More photos of Kerala
Cherai beach, about 1 hour north of Fort Cochin
Kerala backwaters
We were in a similar type of vessel
An Indian family enjoying the sunset on the beach in Fort Cochin
Paul
Deb
Woman with daughter in Fort Cochin
Jew Town, in Cochin - near the oldest synagogue, home to a group of Sephardic Jews, in India
Street in Cochin
Deb on street in Cochin
Near our guesthouse in Cochin
Our first evening in India
Chinese fishing nets off coast of Fort Cochin
God's Country
Dear All,
I'm writing from an internet cafe in the tiny colonial town of Fort Cochin, Kerala. Deb and I arrived from Bangkok on Friday. Upon walking off the plane, the clean and humid air filled our lungs, signaling our arrival in the tropical paradise of Kerala, aka "God's Country". Kerala is one of the most progressive states in India, with the highest literacy and birth rates and the longest life expectancy. The state has been successfully run by communists for over half a century and a focus on public works, education and cooperatives have increased the standard of living. It is also the only state in India with more women than men.
The town of Fort Cochin is one of the first places on the Malabar coast the Portuguese touched down early in the 16th century. St. Francis Xavier was one of the early visitors to Cochin, and the original St. Francis Church is still standing today. Cochin also has a population of Orthodox Syrian Christians, Jews, Muslims and of course Hindus. The Dutch took over from the Portuguese in the 17th century, and the English followed in the 19th.
We are staying in a budget guest house in the middle of town, and are happy with a clean room and a fan. We are both craving a hot shower, and here we are at the beginning of our time in India! Yesterday, we took a day tour of the backwaters. Much of Kerala is made up of an intricate canal and river system, with villages interspersed throughout. The tour brought us to one such village where they produce rope out of coconut fur and the most delicious tapioca chips. We travelled through the canals on a traditional boat that was powered by two men using long bamboo poles. They plunged the poles to the canal floor and pushed us along at a tortoise pace. The palm tree forests lining the shores of the canals were gorgeous.
Today, we took a ferry and then a bus about 25 km north to Cherai beach. We have been so fortunate with the weather so far, with most of the heavy rain coming overnight and sunny days. One local man told us he had never before seen the sun in the month of June! As another local man said, "This change is good for the tourists, but not for us", as Keralans rely heavily on the rains for their livelihood.
It was wonderful being back on a bus in India. I had warned Deb of the driving, but I don't think anything can really prepare you for the experience of two-way traffic cruising along at 50 km/hr on a narrow road, horns blaring, barely swerving to avoid head on collisions. The bus was also segregated by sex, with the women allotted the front half and the men the back half of the bus. I'd never before seen gender segregation before on a bus in India.
The sunsets have been particularly spectacular over the last few days. There is no need to write more though, as this photo should suffice.
The sun setting over the Arabian Sea, off the coast of Fort Cochin, Kerala
I'm writing from an internet cafe in the tiny colonial town of Fort Cochin, Kerala. Deb and I arrived from Bangkok on Friday. Upon walking off the plane, the clean and humid air filled our lungs, signaling our arrival in the tropical paradise of Kerala, aka "God's Country". Kerala is one of the most progressive states in India, with the highest literacy and birth rates and the longest life expectancy. The state has been successfully run by communists for over half a century and a focus on public works, education and cooperatives have increased the standard of living. It is also the only state in India with more women than men.
The town of Fort Cochin is one of the first places on the Malabar coast the Portuguese touched down early in the 16th century. St. Francis Xavier was one of the early visitors to Cochin, and the original St. Francis Church is still standing today. Cochin also has a population of Orthodox Syrian Christians, Jews, Muslims and of course Hindus. The Dutch took over from the Portuguese in the 17th century, and the English followed in the 19th.
We are staying in a budget guest house in the middle of town, and are happy with a clean room and a fan. We are both craving a hot shower, and here we are at the beginning of our time in India! Yesterday, we took a day tour of the backwaters. Much of Kerala is made up of an intricate canal and river system, with villages interspersed throughout. The tour brought us to one such village where they produce rope out of coconut fur and the most delicious tapioca chips. We travelled through the canals on a traditional boat that was powered by two men using long bamboo poles. They plunged the poles to the canal floor and pushed us along at a tortoise pace. The palm tree forests lining the shores of the canals were gorgeous.
Today, we took a ferry and then a bus about 25 km north to Cherai beach. We have been so fortunate with the weather so far, with most of the heavy rain coming overnight and sunny days. One local man told us he had never before seen the sun in the month of June! As another local man said, "This change is good for the tourists, but not for us", as Keralans rely heavily on the rains for their livelihood.
It was wonderful being back on a bus in India. I had warned Deb of the driving, but I don't think anything can really prepare you for the experience of two-way traffic cruising along at 50 km/hr on a narrow road, horns blaring, barely swerving to avoid head on collisions. The bus was also segregated by sex, with the women allotted the front half and the men the back half of the bus. I'd never before seen gender segregation before on a bus in India.
The sunsets have been particularly spectacular over the last few days. There is no need to write more though, as this photo should suffice.
The sun setting over the Arabian Sea, off the coast of Fort Cochin, Kerala
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Final day in Bangkok
Deb and I are sitting in an internet cafe near Kao San road, the backpackers neighborhood in Bangkok. We fly off to Keralla tomorrow morning! I have been having some difficulty with blogspot, but will be working on posting some more text in the coming days.
For now, here are some photographs of Bangkok. More from our wonderful four days in Chaing Mai soon.
Kao San Road
For now, here are some photographs of Bangkok. More from our wonderful four days in Chaing Mai soon.
Kao San Road
Man at the market
Bangkok street scene
Debbie, as we boarded our longboat for the canal tour
Friday, June 5, 2009
And we're off!
After a 14 hour flight from Newark to Delhi, a 5 hour layover in Delhi and a 4 hour flight from Delhi, Deb and I arrived into Bangkok at 6:55 am on the morning of Thursday, June 4.
We took a taxi to the hotel, checked in, showered, and took off to see the city. Bangkok has gone through a stunning transformation over the past 10 years, when Deb was last here. Three-wheeler tuk-tuks have been largely replaced by pink taxis (why pink, I have no idea). Highrise towers and Japanese brands are ubiquitous. We have a Starbucks right across the street from our hotel.
The beginning of the journey 
Bangkok from our hotel 
We took a taxi to the hotel, checked in, showered, and took off to see the city. Bangkok has gone through a stunning transformation over the past 10 years, when Deb was last here. Three-wheeler tuk-tuks have been largely replaced by pink taxis (why pink, I have no idea). Highrise towers and Japanese brands are ubiquitous. We have a Starbucks right across the street from our hotel.
Although parts of Bangkok are ultra-modern, the city retains its distint Southeast Asian personality. Here are some photos from our first day!
The beginning of the journey
On the taxi from the airport
Bangkok from our hotel
On the Chao Phraya river, headed towards the Grand Palace
One of the Wats in the Grand Palace grounds
Debbie
The oldest Buddha statue in Bangkok, the reclining Buddha at Wat Pho
Wat Pho Buddha statues
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Matt & Sarah's Wedding
My younger sister, Sarah, was married this past weekend in St. Paul, Minnesota. What a wonderful occasion it was! Matt is a great man, and it's a pleasure to call him a brother.
Sarah and Dad
Sarah and Matt
Sarah and Dad
Sarah and Matt
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)