Day 9 11th
Jan 13 Off to the
Elephants
It's a bumpy ride once we leave the paddy fields and up into the foothills of the western Ghats. Again I am very impressed with Kieran's driving. It's a fabulous one track dusty road and cars, lorries, buses plus the usual tuk tuks and motor bikes jostle for position or possession. Apart from the occasional 'harrumph' Kieran is unmoved. Outside varied hornsounds sing on. We move out from behind a local bus, beep beep, round a blind corner on the wrong (if there is one) side of the road beep, beep and slip in between a slower moving tuk tuk and lorry to let another car bump by in the opposite direction. Classic, highly decorated but very slow diesel trucks chug by covered in gorgeous, painted patterns like fairground rides, saints, tassels and crucifix swing on the windscreens, so cluttered it's a wonder the driver has any vision at all. Actually our car has tassels and saint on the dashboard although Kieran has told me he isn't any religion - or a communist. Hedging his bets.
A bus stops to pick up. The door, pulled open by passengers, is on a string. A man sitting inside holds the other end and when everyone is safely in, pulls the door closed again. Who needs hydraulics? These local buses are dented, smoky and slow. They don't have windows, just metal bars with brown arms and hands poking out.
The Elephant Court Hotel in Kottayam.
It is comfortable with the usual giant bed and well appointed en suite. The bathroom smells of warm pee but then I don't want to be precious about this. Why not? Because everywhere is very clean and I think sometimes we forget what we really smell like. Oh there's a hair dryer, brilliant, I 'll wash my hair tonight. As I test it, the electricity goes off. I remember this from the Travancore. Count to ten - yep, starting again.
Lunch is delicious, I am on my own in a big restaurant. The waiters all want to practice their English and are very impressed when I recognise Ravi Shankar on the sound system. He has sadly died recently they tell me. I knew that. My favourite waiter George stops to talk. He speaks good English and just finished an engineering degree, working here to pay off his student debt or the interest will increase too much. Good looking and friendly, when he smiles he shows perfect teeth and coffee coloured gums.
Kieran is back and takes me to some spice gardens. Just a small collection of bushes, with a dusty track defining where we walk through the undergrowth. I join a Swedish couple with no English so the guide talks to me as we all struggle to be understood. I notice the woman has bare legs and loads of red angry bites. Young and anxious about the effect of climate change on the spice industry, the guide is gentle, knowledgeable and reminds me of Maosie. At one point we stand back to allow a huge, old, tired elephant plod by obediently carrying a few swaying tourists.
I want to buy some spices and K takes me to an organic shop - 'the best prices Mem.'
I buy, nutmegs, cinnamon bark, all spice for curries, Marsala tea and Keralan home grown coffee. It comes to more cash than I've brought out with me - 'no problem, go next door for use card.'
Next door is a jewellers, of course I see some marcasite and turquoise earrings I like.
'You buy?'
'No money.'
'You have card.'
'Too much money.'
'These are cheaper.'
'I like these but no I don't buy.'
'How much you pay?'
'I can only afford.....'
Oh too little.'
'Yes.' 'I must go, please take for the spices.'
'You pay.......' he drops the price by half and it comes to half more that I said I could pay.
'OK'
I go out with a pair of earrings and my spices and we all smile broadly.
I tell Kieran he must make sure to get a good commission from both shops because I have spent lots of money. He smiles but doesn't admit anything.
It's a bumpy ride once we leave the paddy fields and up into the foothills of the western Ghats. Again I am very impressed with Kieran's driving. It's a fabulous one track dusty road and cars, lorries, buses plus the usual tuk tuks and motor bikes jostle for position or possession. Apart from the occasional 'harrumph' Kieran is unmoved. Outside varied hornsounds sing on. We move out from behind a local bus, beep beep, round a blind corner on the wrong (if there is one) side of the road beep, beep and slip in between a slower moving tuk tuk and lorry to let another car bump by in the opposite direction. Classic, highly decorated but very slow diesel trucks chug by covered in gorgeous, painted patterns like fairground rides, saints, tassels and crucifix swing on the windscreens, so cluttered it's a wonder the driver has any vision at all. Actually our car has tassels and saint on the dashboard although Kieran has told me he isn't any religion - or a communist. Hedging his bets.
A bus stops to pick up. The door, pulled open by passengers, is on a string. A man sitting inside holds the other end and when everyone is safely in, pulls the door closed again. Who needs hydraulics? These local buses are dented, smoky and slow. They don't have windows, just metal bars with brown arms and hands poking out.
The Elephant Court Hotel in Kottayam.
It's impressive. In reception a woman reaches up to clean the chandeliers. She has a plastic feather on a pole. and carefully strokes each arm of the fancy light. I watch her fascinated while they process my voucher.
My room is nice but a different quality from the Zuri.
Lunch is delicious, I am on my own in a big restaurant. The waiters all want to practice their English and are very impressed when I recognise Ravi Shankar on the sound system. He has sadly died recently they tell me. I knew that. My favourite waiter George stops to talk. He speaks good English and just finished an engineering degree, working here to pay off his student debt or the interest will increase too much. Good looking and friendly, when he smiles he shows perfect teeth and coffee coloured gums.
Kieran is back and takes me to some spice gardens. Just a small collection of bushes, with a dusty track defining where we walk through the undergrowth. I join a Swedish couple with no English so the guide talks to me as we all struggle to be understood. I notice the woman has bare legs and loads of red angry bites. Young and anxious about the effect of climate change on the spice industry, the guide is gentle, knowledgeable and reminds me of Maosie. At one point we stand back to allow a huge, old, tired elephant plod by obediently carrying a few swaying tourists.
I want to buy some spices and K takes me to an organic shop - 'the best prices Mem.'
I buy, nutmegs, cinnamon bark, all spice for curries, Marsala tea and Keralan home grown coffee. It comes to more cash than I've brought out with me - 'no problem, go next door for use card.'
Next door is a jewellers, of course I see some marcasite and turquoise earrings I like.
'You buy?'
'No money.'
'You have card.'
'Too much money.'
'These are cheaper.'
'I like these but no I don't buy.'
'How much you pay?'
'I can only afford.....'
Oh too little.'
'Yes.' 'I must go, please take for the spices.'
'You pay.......' he drops the price by half and it comes to half more that I said I could pay.
'OK'
I go out with a pair of earrings and my spices and we all smile broadly.
I tell Kieran he must make sure to get a good commission from both shops because I have spent lots of money. He smiles but doesn't admit anything.
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