Kerala, part II: Munnar

On the morning of 4 March (the most commanding day of the year, and my wonderful mother's birthday!) we woke up early, left our new Mr. Das to pile into a white 1950's looking olds-mobile (is that even a kind of car?) with Augustine (father figure number 2), our hired driver for the day. We had hired him to drive us out east from the coast towards the mountains and hill areas near the town of Munnar. He stopped along the way at various natural spots, like a waterfall (where we clmbed around huge rocks for about an hour), a spice plantation (where we saw Eucalyptus trees and ate passion fruit! Kenya!!, and tasted all sorts of spices and herbs), and many grand landscape views. Augustine was great to have because he was able to take us wherever we wanted to go, whenever we wanted to go (on top of which, the roads in Munnar and the surrounding area are so windy, being in a bus is just terrifying). Augustine took us to a homestay, owned by father figure number 3, named George. George himself came to take us in his jeep the very steep and muddy quarter of a mile from the road and his home. Our room looked out from the middle of a hill; and across the valley, there were rolling hills covered in tea plants, and beyond that, mountains. mountains mountains!

Munnar grows the tea of the world. It certainly grows a majority of India's tea, as well as much of the exported products. The tea plants are never ending: they are bright green, and all cut short and flat. Dotted within the fields are workers who spend all day walking up and down the extremely steep slopes cutting the newly grown tea leaves. Augustine took us to a tea factory, (made particularly easy to follow as it was geared for tourists) which was fascinating, because it showed how tea had been introduced to India.

We stayed with George, and for no reason except that he was amazing, George gave us an extra room for no cost! His homestay was the nicest we stayed at, and though it took some convincing, when we realized that even this "pricey" place was actually costing us $6 each a night, it became a non-question about finding a new place. The next morning we all woke up at 5:30 to watch the sun rise over the mountain across the valley and to do yoga on the roof. We were, in fact, too early for the sun at that time, and then slept through yoga time. But it was a valiant effort. At around 10am we met a new figure in our lives. His name is Joseph. He, like all these Christian named men, is an Indian, but the first and only so far, Indian to have a lisp. It was adorable. And he didn't speak much English at all. He was to be our guide up the mountain, which we decided would be our activity of the first part of the day. Little did we know what we were getting ourselves into.

There seems to be something about me and mountain climbs in foreign countries, being guided by native Christian-named men who speak poor english, with some type of speech issue (think Grandpa, Christopher, going up Mt. Kenya). And, just as Mt. Kenya was way more intense than I had ever anticipated, our hike/climb was certainly more than we thought we were getting into. We started off, 3 liters of water for 6 people for the "4 hour" hike, in our hands, all armed with nothing but the clothing we were wearing, a few cameras, and sandals. Yes, sandals for most of us. Indeed, Davita and I wore our chokos (I am true convert now, and am planning on becoming a sponsored advertiser for the wonderful brand of all purpose shoe made by the one and only Choko company). And so we began. We went up into a treehouse where we could stay for lots of money, we hiked steep inclined paths through the forest. Mallory lost her sunglasses somewhere in the jungle. we were sweating by 10 minutes in. And Joseph was leaping ahead, wearing a lungi (a cloth tied around his waste, tradition in Kerala) and cheap sandals.

Joseph needs some explaining in fact. Not only was his name Joseph. not only did he only wear a lungi and cheap sandals, not only did he have a lisp and poor english comprehension. not only was he our guide up a mountain, which turned out to not to have trails that we followed. he also jumped up vertical rocks like he had Frank's grippy toes, trotted down vertical dirt avalanches, and sprinted up waist high lemon-grass covered hills that had no foot holds, he also only had one cup of coffee all day, and he also smoked cigarettes.

So. yes, after the jungle we just went higher, and it got harder. Going through lemongrass fields/slopes, that don't have places for your feet, and then out of the tall grass, and onto the planes, where there are crop fields actually growing food on the steep side of the mountain. It looked like a normal field where crops might be grown (tho nothing was), that had just been tipped 90 degrees, and was now vertical. Still, even in the heat and my exhaustion, I do remember putting my hand into the hot, dry soil and thinking wow! that feeling of true dirt reminded me so much of all the farming I've done. It felt amazing, nothing like the way dry soil feels on dry hands, especially when you're hiking up a mountain in India! We soon realized that we had not brought enough water. not at all. Joseph took one of our empty bottles and filled with stream water that was falling down the mountain side, but we all declined, of course, knowing the dangers that unfiltered water can have on our frail American immune systems. Yet, by the time we had reached the top, all of us (except Olga) were drinking that stream water. And who knows if it has given us all a thousand and one diseases, or if it was flowing over elephant poop, but we drank it, unpurified, unfiltered, didn't even add iodine tablets (because oh right, I left mine down at George's house!). I think we're fine from the water, actually because it was probably the cleaned we could get, besides bottled or filtered of course. It was running water from a little stream and it was delicious, and somewhat murky but necessary because I think we would have all started going crazy if we hadn't had it. Needless to say, we took about 6.5 hours to do the whole hike, and were so hungry and thirsty by the time we reached the bottom, we had to take an auto the 2km back to our homestay from the base of the mountain.

The hike itself was breathtakingly beautiful. When we first got to Munnar I saw these huge mountains surrounding us on all sides, and I saw the ridges that connect the peaks together and I said, that is where I want to be. walking along those ridges. And then we were there! It is so open in Munnar, and for once you can finally see farther than just two peaks away, because there isn't that terrible pollution of the cities. It was so refreshing to be up around the peaks of the mountains for change.

The next day we hired an auto to take us to the Chinar Wildlife Sanctuary. Driving through the mountains take so much longer of course because we had to wind up and wind down, and go over and in and out and then finally we were there. Our guide's name was Bajin, he was a tribesman, who wore a full green uniform, and flipflops. He hunted down five wild elephants just by listening to the sounds of them eating in the far far distance. It was really remarkable.

We spent our last day at a beach back near Fort Cochin, which was fun--though draining because where there aren't many tourists, being at a beach is just a chance for people to stare at us more than ever. We were smart about it, but still it's exhausting when you can't really enjoy the beach because there are people just sitting on the rocks nearby doing nothing but watching us.

Getting back of course was another 27 hour train ride. It was pretty much a fiasco of feeling bombarded by people asking us "which country are you coming from?" and other the like. Many people here do not pick up on the very obvious fact that we don't want to talk to them. A perfect example was when this guy sat down on our bench on the train, squishing us all, sitting too close (because the whole idea of a "personal bubble" is not applicable here), and asks us all these questions about where we are from, what our names are, etc. We politely respond when necessary, and then (best solution we've found yet), we all pick up our books and start reading. Of course, this one guy then sits there, staring and then pokes me saying, "um sophia, um sophia. you're boring me with your reading." And I look back at him and WANT to say, "oh really? well I didn't know it was my job to entertain you!" but instead say, "o well I'm very interested in my book, so I'm going to read now." It is funny in retrospect, and even at the time, it is funny somewhat. But it is also just so draining and annoying and it never ends. It gets almost unbearable at times, to be honest.

I've been thinking more and more about the trash situation here. Traditional Indian culture wraps their food and eats everything off banana leaves. This is a completely natural way of packaging and eating. In the past then, when everyone used banana leaves, throwing them away at the end wouldn't matter because they would all decompose no problem, wherever they landed. It is just with the introduction of plastic and tin and foil that the issue becomes problematic. This is all very obvious, but I think what I've realized specifically when I see the train people passing out lunches and dinners in foil containers, and then not even providing ANY means for dealing with the wasted containers, that people have continued to deal with trash as if it were still all banana leaves. But it isn't. And so all the trains every day have breakfast, lunch, and dinner, plus all snack packaging and all water bottles thrown out the windows onto the areas around the railways. I am surprised now, that there is even an inch of ground NOT covered in plastic and trash.

I'm sick of writing now.

pictures are up...more to come.