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Thursday, August 30, 2012

Third Time's the Charm in Cochin


Two weeks of Varanasi was far too much. In something of a stupor, it took me an inordinately long time to decide what to do and where to go next. Uncertainty about the Austrian Labor Ministry's final ruling on our visa case didn't help.

Varanasi was mostly alright as long as I could remain in a poo-free exclusion zone. Never have I seen (or smelled) so much excrement. Varanasi must be the poo capital of the universe. Herds of buffalo wandering through the slum close to my guest house only made matters worse. Around Assi Ghat and nearby temples, the situation was no better.

One fine morning the wholly uninspiring cookery of the guest house laid waste to the poo-free exclusion zone within the guest house. At 2:00 AM, I awoke with stomach pains, and didn't quite make it to the toilet on time. It was at that point that I realized that I needed to make a decision regarding departure quite soon.

Several ideas were bandied about in my feverish mind. Josh-bhai suggested Kathmandu. I thought of Goa or Kovalam. Eventually I settled on Cochin, maybe to revisit the lanes of MANAM, mostly because Kerala is clean and the food is wonderful, and the South indeed marks a clear departure.

For some reason, no matter how hard I scoured, it was impossible to find a listing or even a phone number for the hilariously misnamed Park Avenue Hotel in Fort Cochin. In any case, I booked something else for one night, with the intention of coming personally to check things out on Princess Street.

Booking a trip on Air India, reckoning that if the first plane was delayed, they would still be obliged to get me all the way to Kerala, my fears in this regard were borne out. We were delayed an hour out of Varanasi. I did indeed make it to the connecting flight, which lasted a whole three hours (India is a big country). In my meal, there was a scratch card for prizes. One such prize was an induction-compatible set of pots and even an electric induction burner. That was the one that seemed the most practical, and to be sure, over my airplane chicken curry rice, I began to covet it. Eventually I scratched the card. And won!! 

Of course every silver lining has a cloud, and our flight landed in the wrong terminal for me to be able to collect the prize. So I can say with a fair amount of confidence that I won't willingly fly Air India again any time soon.

The morning after my late night arrival, I duly went down to Princess Street to seek out the Park Avenue Hotel. Why? Well Cochin is kind of a special place for me. I only ever experienced happiness in this place. 

The first time was in 2001, on my first trip to India. And it was wonderful enough that I was ultimately rather regretful to have left it for Chennai. That required corrective action, which came at long last in 2007. That second visit coincided with the formation of MANAM which was a happy enough occurrence that I still feel a certain nostalgia five years later.

This is Trip #3. The Park Avenue Hotel was never in the greatest state of repair. At the time of writing, it had closed down for renovations, that were probably necessary ten years ago as well. I found something cheap, good, cozy and quiet just around the corner. And as soon as I had unpacked my backpack, the receptionist asked me if I wanted to be in a Malayali movie. Without even a nanosecond of hesitation, I promptly agreed. What's more, wages for extras had gone up significantly since last I was in the never-released Har Pal. Back then, it was 500-600 rupees a day. Now it is 1000. So we shall see how this Malayali movie pans out.

In the meantime, I'm filled with a present-tense positive nostalgia when walking along Fort Cochin's renowned seaside boardwalk. It features the Chinese fishing nets for which the place is famous, as well as relics from Portuguese, Dutch and British colonial endeavors on the Malabar Coast. It's like having a personal history in this place as well; although it has been five years since my last visit, it is all so wonderfully familiar.  

I can also say that I enjoy the company of the locals. In 1957, in a stroke of historical foresight, the people of Kerala elected the world's first parliamentary Communist government. One legacy of that fateful decision was the highest literacy rate in all of India (not quite 100%, but nearly). Another is the least caste-conscious society within the country, although  that Kerala is home to half of India's Christians may also have some bearing on this issue. The people I meet time and again are educated, articulate, cultured, and generally very engaging. Also of interest is the historical Jewish community, of which only a remnant remains. Nevertheless, Jew Town, as it is known, still houses a 400 year-old synagogue, which is still somewhat in use, and seems to be in a better state of repair than what is left of its much younger counterpart in Yangon.

Kerala is also known as the Land of Coconuts. These figure prominently in the local cuisine, which by any measure, is delectable. Indeed, I had practically stopped eating in Varanasi, and came down south to get the mojo back into my appetite. This verily succeeded.

I am also working on the assumption that this will be the final destination in my Back for More adventure in India. I expect the Austrian Labor Ministry to pronounce itself shortly regarding our case, and once it does, regardless of outcome, I will head back to Bangkok for the next phase in my traveller's life. But for now, grilled fish and prawns in coconut curry beckon.

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