Kumarakom's Lazy Backwaters

Dixie and I don't usually agree on things, but this one is a no-brainer: we've never been to a place like Kerala before. Every stop we make has a totally different ecosystem than the last. The final leg of our trip, which brought us to the famous backwater region of Kerala, was no exception.

The shores are dotted with resorts, but it's not so developed that you can't imagine what it must have been like before the locals decided to open their doors to tourists. In fact, as we were being paddled around the backwaters, we were treated to a good dose of village life. As in Venice, boating on the canals is a major means of transportation here. Unlike Venice, the waters are also used for bathing, washing and fishing.

On the morning of our second day in Kumarakom, we made a trip to the Kumarakom Bird Sanctuary. As at Periyar Lake, the wildlife continued to conspire against us: we could hear the distinct calls of many different birds, but see only a handful of birds in the canopy above. This is the difference between a zoo and a wildlife sanctuary, I told myself, and all in all, this is a good thing.

After a couple hours on foot, we decide to try our luck on boat. Actually, we met a ranger who scoffed at our attempt to view the birds from inside the forest. He said we'd get a better look from the water as the birds left the trees to feed on the fish and insects in Vembanad Lake (India's longest lake), and without pausing for our reaction, he called an oarsman who was paddling down a nearby creek over for us (yes, it was really that easy). 

He was right...it was much better to be back on the water. From the lake, we could watch the birds circling above the canopy and then leaving in flocks as they set off across the lake. The larger birds, cormorants and herons, were easy enough to identify. Ornithologically speaking, it was pretty cool.

Thekkady and the Periyar Wildlife Preserve

Dixie and I were reluctant to leave Munnar, but time was tight and we still wanted to see the Periyar Wildlife Reserve at Thekkady and the backwaters at Kumarakom. Biju, still softspoken after 2 days with us, took us down the slopes to Thekkady. We passed a number of spice plantations and stopped at a small roadside store to use what was probably the cleanest bathroom south of Mumbai. There we were interogated by a 10 year old boy named Sachin (last name not Tendulkar, I confirmed), who thought it was ridiculous that we had come all the way to Kerala only to spend a day or two at each place. We pretty much agreed with him.

Our day in Thekkady was packed. Our first stop was to a small trail on the edge of the sacruary's forests. There, Dixie and I hopped onto the back of a very mellow male elephant for a short ride. Our guide asked for my camera so that he could document the ride. It turned out that our guide was both an adept photog and a master at getting our elephant to stop and pose with his trunk up. However, like most South Indian men, he wore a loincloth wrapped around his waist instead of pants, so I was a but disconcerted when I noticed that the camera wasn't in his hand anymore ("does that thing have pockets?").


After a somewhat underwhelming visit to a private spice garden, we headed to the sanctuary to ride a boat across the Periyar lake. The boat is supposed to be the best way to see wildlife in the park, but expectedly, catching glimpses of wildlife is hit or miss. Unfortunately, the boat followed the same path as it has countless other times, so most animals have probably started to avoid those areas. It also rarely went close enough to the shore for us to really get a great look. I had asked Biju to join us, but he refused -- not out of overpoliteness, but because "it's boring". Still, we managed to see herds of bison, deer and a couple wild boars. The other passengers, who had been oversold into thinking they'd see tigers were understandably disappointed.

After the boat trip, we raced to our hotel to check in and get some Ayurvedic massage treatment. Though the treatment was fairly relaxing, it left my head and back coated with some sort of herbal oatmeal. I hardly had a chance to rinse it off before we hurried to our last stop of the day: a night-time Jungle patrol.

Our party included two other couples, a forest guide and a rifle-carrying ranger. Having the gun-toting guard, combined with the waivers we signed (will not sue if mauled by tigers), made us wonder what we were getting into. What we were getting into was in fact a routine patrol that the rangers do every night to look out for poachers (of wildlife and the valuable snadlewood trees that the forest is home to). We were handed flashlights and set off at 7pm, just after the sun had completely set and we were scheduled to end at 10pm. Even though we were only walking several kilometers on the sanctuary's perimeter, our pace was slowed by the lack of visability (we had to keep the flashlights off most of the time) and by our frequent halts to scan the surroundings with flashlights for wildlife. Again, we saw deer and boars, but also got to hear the sound of the jungle at night. I'll admit it was a unique experience, even if the waivers and rifle proved unnecessary.

Munnar

Once we got far enough away from Cochin, we started to get glimpses of fog-covered mountains and lazy rivers. These were the same images that caught our attention in the National Geographic magazine article that persuaded us to arrange this trip to Kerala.

It was well after dark before we finally reached Munnar. This worked out really well since we were totally surprised by the view that surrounded us when we woke up the next morning.

Munnar is essentially a hill station that developed during India’s colonial period when the British established tea plantations here. The tea plants, which actually form waist-high hedges, make Munnar’s hills bright green with a look as if someone ran a comb over them. We stopped at a tea museum, which had a running factory inside it, to see how tea is transformed from a green and decidedly non-tea-scented leaf into an oxidized, brown ball that represents the finest CTC (curled, torn and crushed) black tea. However, the most amazing step in the whole process occurs before the tea even reaches the processing plant. Plantation workers, typically women, scale the steep slopes to trim the endless rows tea plants (tea plants are one of the few crops in India that produce a product year-round). The women wear a thick rubber tarp like a skirt to protect their legs from the hedges and don’t seem fazed by the fact that their job seems more like rock climbing than agricultural labor.

After traveling to a number of scenic viewpoints, we ended our day by taking in a very small-scale Kathakali production. Kathakali is the main form of dance in the south of India, and it is marked by incredibly intricate costumes and equally intricate movements (all of which have very specific meanings). The show started at 6:30, but we arrived early to see the performers go through makeup and the setup of their costumes. The makeup is a thick face paint that completely covers the performers’ faces. The costumes take forever to put on, and I got to thinking that the costume was more complicated than it needed to be (in the same, ignorant way that lets me wonder why sarees need to be wrapped and re-pleated each time instead of just pre-sown so they are ready to slip on). In any case, between the costumes, the cacophony of the percussion instruments and the odd, almost scary expressions of the performers, I learned that Kathakali is probably my least favorite form of entertainment.

Cochin

We landed in Cochin, the former Portuguese port city of Kerala, yesterday after an overnight train journey to Mumbai and a short flight to Cochin. Getting a good night’s sleep in the sleeper coaches is hit-or-miss. I had a fairly restful night, but Dixie’s bottom bunkmate was a roof-kicker, whose fidgetiness gave her no peace. Still, as soon as we landed in Cochin, we were both ready to go.

We were met at the airport by our driver, Biju, and taken to a Chevy SUV (or “MUV” for “multi-use vehicle” in India). The accidental upgrade from the small Tata Indica we had booked was a pleasant surprise. Though English is more commonly spoken in South India than in Gujarat, Biju’s English was just passable enough for us to communicate.

Although we had planned to go directly to Munnar, we decided to spend the morning in Fort Cochin and Mattancherry. Fort Cochin sits on the Arabian Sea, or some in-land extension of it, and has a rich colonial past. The Dutch Palace and several places in Jew Town (that’s the official name) were closed because it was a Friday, so we headed to the northern harbor where fishermen use giant Chinese fishing nets to pull fish from the Arabian Ocean.

The Chinese fishing nets, or “Cheenavalas” as they’re known locally, are a tourist attraction of their own; so much so that fishermen continue to man the nets during the off-season in the hopes of getting tips from the tourists. The nets seem to be hoisted every 5-10 minutes, though the fisherman may have been pulling them up more frequently to give the tourists some more action. I chatted with a fisherman who showed me his team’s meager catch (5-6 fish, instead of the usual 50+). Thirty percent of the catch goes to the owner of the net, and the rest gets split between the five fishermen who man the net. Following our short discussion, he invited me to help raise the net (with a tip to follow, being implied). Despite the counterweights on the net, it still takes four fishermen (or three fishermen and a tourist) to pull up the net. For our efforts, we caught just one fish.

We left Cochin after lunching on some Keralan fish curry and iced and hot teas at an artsy and tasty restaurant called Teapot. Just like every other person at the restaurant, we found it through Lonely Planet .

Our drive to Munnar was a slow one, mainly because I kept asking Biju to pull over so I could snap photos. We made an impromptu stop at what turned out to be the Maharaja of Cochin’s former palace, and then later paused to soak in some spectacular views on bridges and mountain switchbacks. The area immediately outside of Cochin is developing rapidly. Large new houses and hotels are being built in the Spanish-style that defines many of the older buildings as well, and every other house seems to be newly built. It’s a sign that Kerala is trading in its reputation as a backpacker’s paradise.

Last days in Ahmedabad

I can't believe we're heading home in less than 2 weeks. I've only got 2 days left at CMF and 3 days left in Ahmedabad.

Dixie and I are heading to Mumbai on an overnight train on Wednesday night, and then on Friday morning, we take a flight to Kerala. Jamshed and Kersas Masa have helped us plan a really packed 5-day trip, but being the idiot that I am, I'm having a hard time looking forward to it since it marks the end of our India trip!!!

In any case, here's the plan:

- Fly into Kochi (Cochin) and go straight to the hill station of Munnar
- 20-22 in Munnar, seeing plantations, villages, waterfalls, etc.
- 22-23 in Thekkady, hopefully seeing plenty of wildlife at the Periyar Wildlife Reserve
- 23-24 in Kumarakom to boat on the backwaters of Kerala
- 24-25 back to Kochi to see the old fort city and spice trade center of Fort Cochin

*Aside: I'm distracted by a hawk that is trying to drive away a flock(?) of pigeons outside my window.

I think I'm going to need to back-fill this blog when I get back home. I've jotted down on paper a good deal more than I've been able to put up here. I've even fallen behind on uploading pictures because Picasa refuses to connect to the web on this laptop.

Boh Gharmi Lageh Cheh

The only thing that makes me even slightly ready to leave is the weather, which only gets hotter between now and May.

Dheroli and Chacher

Early on, I remarked that India was a land of extremes. A couple weeks ago, I saw Mumbai’s antithesis: the villages of Dheroli and Chacher. Despite the presence of a few tractors, most farming here is done the old-fashioned way: with bullock-pulled plows/carts and manual labor. The area is peaceful, picturesque and incredibly green.

To get there, Abhay (our project assistant) and I took a series of buses to Bordeli and then took a car for the last 30-40 kilometers. On the drive, we passed fields of cotton, castor and corn, acres of the greenest banana plantations, and a series of overloaded trucks, bullock carts and rickshaws. I was glued to the window and so absorbed in the scenery that I hardly noticed the lack of shock absorbers on our rented van or the blaring old Filmi music our driver insisted on blasting on his old cassette deck.
The main purpose of our trip was to meet with some of SEWA's members and conduct a few focus groups for the price information project. We wanted to learn how they’re using the futures prices we’re giving them to make their planting or selling decisions, and what we need to do to improve the program in subsequent seasons. On the price information project, not everyone participating would be considered poor, so there was some variety in the livelihoods of the people with whom we spoke. In fact, the largest farmer had almost 30 acres of land. Some of the homes in the village are mud huts, while the house where we held the Dheroli focus group was 200 years old and was owned by Prameenbhai, one of the larger and most experienced farmers. Despite the diversity in the group, each village seemed more like an extended family (and to some extent, it probably was).

Most of our questions centered on how farmers make their planting, growing, harvesting and selling decisions, as well as how the market is structured (places where they sell their crop, to whom they sell it and whether the process is an auction, private negotiation or something else). I've noticed that if I ask a yes or no question, people are reluctant to give a negative answer, perhaps feeling that saying 'no' would offend us. This is sometimes obvious when the 'yes' response is inconsistent with other things they've already said. There's some literature on this, which I won't get into.

Even though we asked them a continuous stream of questions for two hours, everyone was extremely gracious to us. Villagers came to meet us promptly, and of course, the tea flowed abudantly. The Sarpanch of Chacher village (the chairperson of the village's governement) told me "you are most welcome here anytime." Which is nice, since I might want to retire there one day.

Happy Birthday, Mom!!!

You must laugh now

This afternoon I gave a presentation on CMF and two of our current projects at a workshop hosted by Saath. The workshop was held at the Nehru Foundation, which has an amazing, green campus. I'd occassionally get distracted from the other presentations by a monkey that was sitting cross-legged in an eerily human manner, on a tree branch right outside the window next to me.

The presentations were in Hindi, Gujarati and English, though everyone made slides in English. This was my first time presenting with a translator and it made for an interesting experience. At times, the translator would paraphrase what I said and then translate what was on the slide. In a couple of cases, he actually got ahead of me. I wonder what exactly he was saying at times, as it didn't sound like what I had said.

All this reminds me of a story President Carter told when I heard him give a speech at Stanford back in 2003 or 2004. Shortly after leaving office, President Carter was touring some villages in Japan. He had some downtime during the visit and a local school approached him about speaking at their graduation. Not wanting to disappoint, Carter accepted and proceeded to craft his speech. After four years in office, Carter was used to giving speeches and having them translated. He was also aware that humor didn't always translate well, so he chose only one joke, which he whittled down to its most basic form.

At the graduation ceremony, President Carter gave his speech as planned. When he got to the joke, he listened as the abridged English version became even more brief when the Japanese translator recited it. The crowd roared with laughter -- a much better reaction than the joke had ever received before. President Carter was startled by the reaction and he approached the translator afterwards to find out exactly how he said it, so that he could improve the English version in the future.

At first, the translator was hesitant to say anything. Carter pressed on, eager to know how to ellicit such a positive response again in the future. Finally, the translator admitted, "When you told joke, I tell the audience 'President Carter said a joke. Everybody must laugh now.'"