The Keralan dream

(aargh, I'm so late with my posts! this happened more than one month ago. But I like to tell my stories in a good way, and I haven't really had a lot of internet opportunities lately. Right now I'm in Mumbai, and tonight I leave to Ahmedabad, going back towards Delhi. After that I'll go to the very north of India. I'll try to publish my next stories more quickly.)

After two weeks of playing English teacher, I went traveling again. The plan was to be back in Cuddalore two weeks later, after the summer holidays. That would give me enough time to go around the southeast coast, and the state of Kerala. My main destination was the famous backwaters: a chain of brackish lagoons and lakes lying parallel to the Arabian Sea coast of Kerala, forming a network of more than 900km of waterways (Wikipedia, it’s good to have you). A French guy I met in the North had told me how he rented a canoe, and spent 7 days on the backwaters on his own, just paddling around, sleeping in villages, where he hung his hammock between two palm trees. I was dreaming of doing the same; my only potential enemy was the monsoon, which usually starts around the 1st of June (I left on May, 15th). But instead of going there first, as any logically thinking idiot would, I went straight south first. The reason for this was that the Danish girl who worked for Bhanu before me was going that way at the same time, and when you’re in South India in low season, company is a scarce and precious good.

The first and obligatory stop was Madurai, that houses the “Taj Mahal of the South”. The Meenakshi Sundareswaran temple, which stands as one of India’s greatest cultural and architectural landmarks, is one of the greatest Shiva temples of Tamil Nadu (Wikipedia, I think I love you). This house of gods is one of the must-sees according to my personal catechism, “25 ultimate experiences in India”. Maybe I wasn’t in the right mood; maybe it wasn’t the right period to visit; or perhaps I’m just not the temple-visiting type of guy – whatever the reason, I didn’t really feel the magic. Don’t get me wrong, the place is nice. It’s a big and impressive complex, with colorful gopurams (towers) on the outside, and a maze of corridors and halls on the inside. We went early in the morning, and the atmosphere was relaxed, people piously and serenely performing their religious rituals. So let’s say it was nice to see, but I wouldn’t really include it in my India Hit Parade 2010.

Madurai itself was hot and dusty, so we didn’t stay long. We took a bus to Kanyakumari, a.k.a. Cape Comorin, the southernmost tip of India. It’s a special place, because three seas meet there: the Arabian Sea (west), the Indian Ocean (south) and the Gulf of Mannar (east). I had been looking forward to being there. I would stand there, I pictured, arms spread and wind in my hair, with a sense of joy and victory, thinking about all this distance I crossed, all this land I conquered, the waves of three different seas crashing on the rocks in roaring thunder, the sun projecting rainbows in the water drops, children cheering and dozens of sitars playing victorious tunes, and… okay, okay, enough. Anyway, surprisingly, it wasn’t like that. After careful investigation, I have identified the most important cause of this failure: Indian mass tourism. Believe it or not, it’s kind of hard to enjoy the tip of India when it’s crowded by approx. 50 people/m2. Sunrise and sunset are, of course, the biggest attractions. There again, my idea of a romantic sunset on some beautiful beach resulted somewhat illusionary. The sinking sun can only be admired from and ugly and, of course, overcrowded concrete viewing point. Sunrise, on the other hand, is visible from the seaside; but, unfortunately, it was foggy. This didn’t stop hordes of tourists from staring at the invisible horizon and taking dozens of pictures when the long-risen sun finally pierced through the clouds; it was Tiger Hill all over again (for more details on this and many other amazing adventures in the North, the reader is kindly referred to http://julienisgone.blogspot.com/2010/04/serendipity-vs-planning.html). What I did like about Kanya South, are the two small islands just off the coast. One is the Vivekananda Rock Memorial, built in 1970 for this fellow who reportedly meditated on a rock there (contrary to what it might sound like, he’s not a popular musician, but a spiritual teacher). The other island is the gigantic 405m tall statue of Tamil saint-poet Thiruvalluvar, completed on January 1st, 2000 (Wikipedia, would you marry me?).

After Kanyakumari, as my Danish companion proceeded southwest, I went back to some 80km north from there. Why, you may ask? Let me explain. My father had sent me an email a couple of weeks before to tell me that if I wanted to work in an NGO in South India, I could try to contact an organization called SCAD, where many people from Antwerp are involved. Some weeks later, when I told the girl who had set me up with Bhanu about my traveling plans, she recommended the exact same organization. I knew it was somewhere in South India, but I had no idea of where exactly. When I was in Madurai, even though with the backwaters on my mind I didn’t feel like working at that time, I thought I might as well look up the address, in case I would be in the neighborhood. The name of the city, Tirunelveli, didn’t sound familiar, so I resolved to buy a map of Tamil Nadu – which, of course, I forgot. The next day, on the bus to Kanyakumari, at some point I was staring out the window and I saw a name that sounded strangely familiar: Tirunelveli! Serendipity, anyone? SCAD (Social Change and Development) is a huge organization. They operate from Tirunelveli, but their area is huge; they are active in dozens of villages, and reach thousands of people. They take care of all kinds of underprivileged people and communities, like homeless people, disabled children, saltpan workers and their children, gypsies, leprosies, snake catchers, elderly people, quarry workers, left-handed people, Jessica Simpson fans, … (okay, maybe not the last two). They get a lot of funding from abroad, but they make quite some money themselves as well. They have huge colleges and schools, where students pay according to their parents’ income. All the money generated there, of course, flows to the projects. Even though I had called just one day ahead, I was received like a king – which make me feel a bit uncomfortable. I was picked up at the bus station by an empty school bus and brought to a fancy guest house, in the most luxurious room I had seen in months: real shower, flat-screen TV, AC, … SCAD doesn’t lack money, that much is clear. There was only one other guest, with whom I shared the delicious and hearty dinner, made by our private cook. The next day I briefly met the chairman – a very busy man – and talked to a couple of his staff members. They told me that perhaps I could work with the ortho-technician, who makes all kinds of orthopedic devices for the disabled children. I had to wait until June, though, because of the summer holidays - same story as in Cuddalore, and perfectly compatible with my plans. The only problem was that Bhanu expected me to come back to Cuddalore. Luckily, in a rare moment of foresight, I had taken all my luggage, for in case I wouldn’t come back. Since I felt I could do something a bit more related to my qualifications, and since, despite the external funding, SCAD is a good example of social entrepreneurship, one of my hobby-horses, the choice was easily made: exit Blessing Kids, enter SCAD.

But before getting back to work, I had ten days to pursue my Keralan dream – the backwaters. But again, instead of going there directly, I made an intermediate stop on the coast of Kerala. Varkala is a beach town I had heart many good things about. I was planning to stay there only one night, though, because I expected it to be kind of dead. But then, disaster struck. The condensation of moist, hot air over the Bay of Bengal had slowly led to the formation of cyclone Laila. This temperamental lady was so big, that her outskirts reached the coast of Kerala. And the heavy winds that tormented the east coast of India, at the same time snatched away my romantic dream. Damn you, weather gods! Fortunately, I met some nice people there, some of which were going to the backwaters too, “the day after tomorrow”. So I thought I’d spend one more night there and join them, so we could rent a houseboat together. I ended up staying for five days. This is partly due to the fact that, as I found out, my potential backwater buddies said they would leave “the day after tomorrow” every day. But mainly, the place was so laid-back, the company so nice, and the weather so bad, that it seemed to be the best option to stick around in Varkala. I must admit it weren’t the most active days of my trip. The days passed according to a fixed schedule: sleeping late, having brunch, going to the beach, having dinner, and finally, where it all led up to, having a drink, or two. I think I spent about four times more on alcohol than on the room (don’t worry mum, it’s not as bad as it sounds; it’s just that the room was very a and the alcohol very expensive). After five days, it was definitely time to move on. A Dutch friend I new from Cuddalore had caught up with me, so we went to the backwaters together. The others were reportedly leaving “definitely the day after tomorrow”.

And so there I finally was: the backwaters. Not in a canoe, as I had hoped, but in a noisy, polluting, motorized houseboat. But at least I saw the place, and the weather gods seemed to have a bit of compassion: it didn’t rain. The backwaters…remember when I told you about the beautiful landscapes and roadside of Tamil Nadu? The backwaters are similar, but the roads are replaced by water, and the fields by lakes. The thousands of palm trees are beautifully reflected in the perfectly still water. At the sides of the canals, women are washing clothes, kids are playing in the water, and men are bathing or fishing. Long canoes pass by, transporting sometimes old men, sometimes young children, sometimes entire families.

After a beautiful night in the backwaters, we went to Kochi. The island of Fort Kochi was the first European settlement in India. It has been ruled subsequently by the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British. Fort Kochi is the most relaxed town I’ve been to in India. There was a cultural centre where we saw local music and theater, which was very special, and very nice. Then, as my Dutch friend headed further north, I had a couple of days left before I had to go back to Tamil Nadu. So I returned to the backwaters, and I spent one night in a “homestay” there, a room in local people’s house, in the middle of the backwaters. I did a bicycle trip on one of the islands, where I ended up in at the side of really small canals with wooden bridges and a natural roof of palm leaves; just beautiful. And guess what, I actually got to do some canoeing! Which, of course, just made me realize even more what I had missed out on. I definitely need to go back someday…