We bid adieu to our new friends at the Ayurvedic treatment center. I left two flower hair ornaments with the women who massaged me over four days. Everyone in India loves my barrettes, even the women security guards at the airport who pat you down commented on them. Of course, in India a man could never touch a woman or a woman touch a man. And since women don’t travel much I would always get through security five to ten minutes ahead of Peter.
Now back to Southern India. We drove up into the mountains.
The air kept getting cooler and cooler. The vistas were spectacular. We went by banana trees, mangos, and pineapples and little waterfalls began appearing. The roads were narrow but cars and buses managed to pass each other calmly. Animals did not dominate the roadway and set the speed. Pedestrians stayed to the edges of the road. One could travel at over 15 kilometers an hour for the most part.
Our first stop was this incredible Syrian Christian church in Kottayam. The Syrian Christinas of Kerala believe that St. Thomas, one of the apostles of Christ came to Kerala in 52 AD and established 7 churches on its coast. This church is one of the few old churches that still exists in near its original state. The church was built and consecrated in 1579. Kottayam was then ruled by a local raja who invited the brave and hard working Christians to settle down near his fort. To get the right historical perspective it should be remembered that the Cupola of St. Peter’s was consecrated 11 years later in 1590, The Taj Mahal was completed 69 years later in 1648 and Christopher Wren completed St Paul’s in London 131 years later in 1710. (You can see I’m getting influenced by Dr. Pete!) The façade of the church is beautifully done in bas relief. As the church was built during the Portuguese domination of this coast, its style is European with galleries, pillars, cornices and pediments. The capital of the pillars is Corinthian. The pediments have floral decoration. In the center is a niche with a free standing statue of the virgin and child flanked by a group of angels. The façade was incredible. It incorporated symbols from other religions. The serpents you see are from the Hindu tradition. They also appear in the Buddhist tradition. Syrian crosses are much more 3 dimensional and intricate than the traditional Catholic cross. There were beautiful teak carvings and they incorporated peacocks and other animals. There was a special lock for the church doors to keep out the tigers and elephants in ancient times. The Madbaha, which is the holy of holies, or altar, is a piece of art. It has a painted barrel vault built up of carved laterite stones. The eastern wall is painted with various scenes with the virgin mother at its centerpiece. The side walls have paintings depicting various scenes of the passion of the Christ, starting with the last supper, Gadzamane and the arrest and judgment on the northeastern wall, ending with the crucifixion on the south eastern wall. I was impressed even though I was on religious-site overload.
We continued on to Thekkady and were put into this lovely lodge that was on the edge of the forest with beautiful flowers. We washed and then went to see a performance of the Kerala Kalari Centre and saw Kalaipayattu, which, according to the Dance School, is “the oldest form of martial arts- a gift to the modern world and known as the mother of all martial arts. Legend traces the 3000-year-old art form to Sage Parasurama- the master of all martial art forms and credited to be the re-claimer of Kerala from the Arabian Sea. Kalaripayattu originated in ancient South India.”
The dancers (martial artists) were in a pit and we looked down from above. Before every maneuver they bowed to the gods on the altar with the swords, sticks, daggers, spears. We saw how one fights with a shield against a sword, a cloth versus a saber and all other forms of dancing combat. They used tin so at times sparks flew to make it more dramatic in the darkened room. The martial artists were in fantastic shape and it was beautiful to watch their bodies in motion. They also did somersaults through hoops of fire. At one point one of the performers got singed but the show must go on.
After that I went to see the Kathakali show. Like with the martial artists and other dramatic dancers in India, their families have been doing it for generations and the skills are passed down. The makeup for the Kathakali dancing is amazing and takes over an
hour to apply. I watched part of the demonstration of how it was done. Men pose as women and their outfits used hoop-like skirts. In addition there were about a dozen different hand signs that were used to help tell the story. As if this weren’t enough, to the beat of the drums and the music the dancer moves a different part of their face every second in order to show
different emotions.
They enacted part of a moral fable. It was probably from one of the stories of the Hindu
mythology or the Bahagavad Ghita. I could not even stay focused for as long as they could move. It supposedly takes 8 years to master all of the facial
gestures.
In the morning we got up as early as our guide was willing to go in search of tigers.
Walking through the jungle meant wearing canvas leg coverings from the shoe to the knee to keep out leeches. We walked and walked but we never saw tigers. Peter thought, “This guy doesn’t know anything!” I finally asked, “Since we’re not likely to see tigers, can you show us how to see what there is out here?” At this point the quiet guide perked up smiled and let us
know he was an expert ornithologist and started pointing out all the different bird habitats, wherethe monkeys were that Peter affectionately calls “Oh, Ling Ling”! which I think might be the Thai name for monkey, but you’ll have to ask him!
We also came across the most incredible, lacelike fungus or mushroom that I have ever seen in my life. It looked like a giant lantern and the sun shone through it.
As it was time to leave the jungle, our guide was searching for a way out. Peter the fearless explorer probably hurt the guide’s ego when he found the quickest route down to the trail. As we were walking back the guide noticed a leech on my hand. Obviously the leeches are
smart and they know which part of our bodies are fair game. If you have never been leeched you might not know that they first put out an anesthetic so that you don’t feel them. Then they inject something into your body so that the blood does not coagulate. We quickly removed that leech.
A little while later when I was out of the jungle and walking in town, I looked down at my stomach and it was bright red. Somehow a leech had also decided that I was tasty there. I never saw the leech but somehow 
I must have washed it off in showering. We also went on
a boat ride where we saw lots of elephants, bison, and goat, but by now elephants seemed as common as squirrels or deer—I was much more interested in these beautiful birds - Egyptian geese, larks, wren, warblers, etc..
From Thekkady we went to visit Professor Jacobson’s spice plantation. It was a gorgeous assortment of flowers and spices. The work that goes in to making spices ready for sale is incredible. In many cases each part of the plant has to be individually tied off or harvested. The difference in a day can affect its quality. We got to taste fresh vanilla beans, coco beans, saffron, and so much more. There was something that looked like ginger but wasn’t. We also got to try
this fruit that was a cross between a passionfruit and something else.
We went back and walked around town we were lucky enough to find some internet that
worked and where Peter could use SKYPE. We also found a wonderful little store with a delightful young man from Kashmir who could speak English. He had beautiful earrings. I bought silver Ganesh earrings. Ganesh is a Hindu elephant god that opens the doors to
prosperity, health, wealth, and other good things. I bought these earrings for Marlene, my cleaning lady of over 20 years because she loves elephants and had just had surgery for breast cancer. I hoped they would do the trick and bring her good luck. Peter bought Jill these
beautiful prayer wheel earrings where the prayer wheels turned. They were inscribed with the Buddhist saying
We also bought a beautiful pashmina scarf for Flavia, who was taking care of the house and welcoming each of the people who paid for the privilege of staying in my attic retreat. I had so much fun staying around while they put the hooks in the earrings. We spent an hour talking about the shopkeeper’s life there and his home in Kashmir. As with most young men he was to be part of an arranged marriage within the next year. It was just so nice to have someone to talk to.
We left Thekkady and had to backtrack a bit to go to an area that in very similar to our own, minus the bay and except the hills are covered with tea plants. At one time the tea plants were owned by the British and they even printed their own scrip with which to pay the workers so that the workers wouldn’t leave. Today they are collectives. Remember Kerala is the only communist elected government in India. They have a 99 percent literacy, rate many more rights and opportunities for women, better roads, cleaner air and water, and much less poverty. They do however have a high unemployment rate and many of the young people go abroad for work.
With the high tech development in neighboring states and cities like Bangalore and Hyderabad more jobs are becoming available in India. In fact, when we traveled up the backwaters in old wooden boats that were propelled by pushing a pole against the bed of the
river we saw many people reading. We also saw home industries, like grass-mat weaving.
We were also told about the magnificent boats they have where a hundred and fifty people row in unison and in the center sits a drummer flanked by two oarsmen who are also singers who keep the time for the movement of the oars. On the smaller boats of twenty five and fifty people, women even compete in their own category. As a cultural aside even though
“football” is widely popular, girls do not play. In fact in India where only about 20 percent of the people drive at all, only about 1 percent of the women
have driving licenses.
In southern India, I saw women driving the motorcycle but in northern India it was 99
percent likely that they were a passenger and very rarely did you see a woman riding a bicycle. In southern India women and girls could ride bicycles but our driver did not let his daughter ride a bike because of safety. That doesn’t stop him from putting his whole family on a motorcycle without helmets!
Besides tea plantations, Munnar is also a honeymoon capital, although Richard Gere had a warrant out for his arrest for kissing one of the Bollywood stars. I did see a couple when I was on an isolated trail near a beautiful lookout hold hands and kiss because they thought they were alone. Although you don’t see men and women touching, you do see men holding
hands and women holding hands. The man at the jewelry store asked us if it were true that two men holding hands in America means they are gay. Munnar had a beautiful park with a fantastic children’s playground. They had a “flying squirrel” and both boys and girls were taking turns. Roller skating was also available but on a surface that I couldn’t do without breaking my neck.
People in southern India and Nepal seem to love their children. Meanwhile I watched the people in the north, especially the poor province of Bahar, being very strict and severe with their children.
Most marriages in India are still arranged so these couples are just getting to know each other. As some of our drivers and guides explained to us, “First I married my wife, and then I grew to love her”.
In Munnar, while Peter was recuperating from his Ayurvedic experience, I went to a beautiful open market with the most delicious produce. In some places in India you can see thirty varieties of bananas. I bought fresh mangoes and grapes for us to feast on when we headed down the mountain the next day.
When we returned to Kochi I went shopping with the driver’s daughter for a new outfit. At first she was shy but then she started speaking English with me. We also picked out an outfit for her brother. In the store there are always three or four clerks to wait on you. Then you go and pay for the outfit and then there is a separate place where you go and pick it up. This way more and more people are employed. You cannot judge it and the extra time it takes by American efficiency standards. We could learn a lot by putting people to work to keep the parks clean, the bathrooms safe, and all the ways that they find to make employment.
That evening I was invited to the driver’s house for dinner. They live in a lovely house of five rooms with glass windows and a paved driveway within a gated compound with relatives as neighbors. They had electricity all the time, but the bathroom was outside (which they prefer). They set out a beautiful meal of at least ten different bowls. But when it came time to eat only one place was set. I was to be the honored guest and eleven people were there to watch me. I took tiny portions and the children eager to serve me kept adding more at my request, a teaspoon at a time. It took me one hour to eat the meal between questions.
The food was terrific and much of it I had never seen at an Indian restaurant. I realized it was really a hard time for his wife to be cooking because two days later a nephew was going to be married and that meant a new woman would be entering the compound. I asked about the cost of dowries for them as middle class people. It would cost the brides family about 8
thousand dollars. They make in a good month about 750 dollars. It would cost the man’s family about 800 dollars to pay for the feast for the 300 guests. In
this area a dowry would probably include a motorcycle whereas with my first driver it would be a bicycle.
I went back to the hotel and described to Peter the dinner. He was so thankful that he had not been able to go. I however enjoyed seeing the women and the home and talking to the young relatives of Peter’s age. If it had been daytime, I could have played badminton in their yard.
The children had computers to use at school but not at home. Internet was quite reasonable. Because of Joshy’s job he had a cell phone. Most phones are cell phones and they have towers in the steepest ravines where we would lose reception. Hotels don’t necessarily have computers, nor do banks. Much of accounting is done by hand with carbon copies.
The next morning Peter and I separated. He went to New Delhi and Thailand, and I went to Chennai (old Madras). I was lucky enough to find a Gulf Airlines office hidden in the terminal with the most delightful man who not only hounded AA so I could get on a plane the next day (being in a heat wave of 114) but made sure I had a realistic itinerary for sightseeing, a good place to stay, and that I would not be overcharged by taxi or auto-rickshaw drivers. They also had a great setup in the center of the parking lot where I could leave baggage overnight. So with a large purse I set off alone for the first time in four weeks to explore the
city.
I luckily got a wonderful older rickshaw driver who, without me asking him to, showed me all of the sights that I had listed as wanting to see. First on my list were the beautiful grounds of the Theosophical Society, which was founded in 1875 in New York. Its primary object is universal brotherhood based on the realization that life in all its diverse forms, human and nonhuman is indivisibly one. Theosophy is the wisdom underlying all religions when
they are stripped of accretions and superstitions. It offers a philosophy that renders life intelligible and demonstrates that justice and love guide the cosmos. Its teachings aid the unfoldment of the latent spiritual nature of the human being without dependence or fear.
The Theosophical Society’s grounds are this incredible park like setting with a wonderful old Banyan tree. The grounds are also called “The Lungs of Chennai” because they are one of the few open spaces. It had in the gardens beautiful Buddhist gardens and a major
temple with symbols from all the religions of the world. It had a great library and this wonderful, peaceful, spiritual feeling. And you see how important trees are, because even thought it was 110, it was pleasant, and felt to be only about 90.
I also saw the old Catholic church in Mylapore, Chennai, where St. Thomas’s remains were in a crypt in the basement that you could view and where I lit a candle for Marlene and other friends of mine who were sick in hopes that Our Lady of Mylapore would make a miracle.
In Chennai also all of the women wear jasmine in their hair. They dye it to match their saris and the scent is wonderful.
Another highlight the incredible Kappaleeswarar Hindu temple with its intricate paintings and
sculptures that make the painted Victorian ladies of San Francisco look simple by comparison.
The driver also found me a new hotel by the marina where I could walk even at night and see the families frolicking on the seashore and their version of amusement rides for small children. They also sold popcorn, cotton candy, grilled corn, fresh pineapple, coconut milk, and coconut
shells, cucumbers that are prepared like in Mexico with chili and lime and other wonderful concoctions. At this point I decided I now had the necessary resistance and indulged in grilled corn, cucumbers, pineapple, and popcorn.
Some young men talked to me to practice their English and I had a marvelous time. I
even got brave enough to dip my toe in the waters of the Bay of Bengal. I had not been brave enough to have any of my body parts touch the Ganges or the Arabian Sea or any of the lakes and rivers we had traveled on.
I decided it might be fun to go to the rooftop restaurant, but when I arrived there it was hot and smoky and I was the only woman. So I decided a snack in my room reading Peter’s favorite philosopher, Ken Wilbur, was a better alternative.
The next morning at 4:45 the auto-rickshaw driver returned to take me to the airport. It was already at least 90 degrees. I happily boarded the plane for Muscat in Oman. I had a five hour layover in Oman. Then I flew over hours of desert before reaching the skies above Athens
and eventually France to England. I could have kissed the soil to arrive in England and become invisible. That is to say, no one stared at me for being white.
I was greeted at the airport after 24 hours of travel by my former housemate Jordan and his wife Megan. My being a drama queen, the day was not going to end as peacefully as Megan had hoped. She ran me a bath by candlelight, but being that I don’t use candles and I was half asleep, I forgot to blow them out. I slept through all the smoke alarms in the morning. But did
notice some melting on the fiberglass on the bathtub that I did not remember from the night before! I wanted to be a good houseguest and Megan had thought that she should maybe say something to me but she didn’t want to bother me. The moral of the story is trust your
intuition. Especially when you are dealing with me as a houseguest! I’m still waiting for the bill for that. The hidden cost of vacations!
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