Day 13,  15^thJan day                             Last post.

How can it be the last day already? All the preparation, booking, foolish anxieties, looking forward to seeing the family, setting off on the adventure, going across Kerala, all coming to an end.  I have very special memories about this item on my bucket list. Bucket list? is this right thinking I wonder.

The morning is sunny and warm. I meet Kieran and my new tour guide, another George. He is middle aged and knowledgeable. First, a few minutes’ walk to the Chinese fishing nets. They are impressive the ideal type photo opportunity. Very heavy, weighted they sink gracefully into the water and are pulled back up by manpower. We are expected. George whispers, ‘you will tip them.’ I whisper back, ‘how much?’ He giggles and says rupees 100 is good.’ ‘OK.’

I am gathered up, shown the net and help let it down into the water. It is heavy. It rests for a minute then we pull it up again and I have caught a mini fish. Photos are taken and we all laugh. I fumble through my rucksack to offer 200R (£2.80.) That brings out more smiles... good.

Next, the Museum. Although we go to the head of the queue, it's busy. We push and get jostled in the doorway. It's in the Matancherry palace, built by the Portuguese in the 16C and given to the Raja of Kochi - generous of them. Small, crowded dark rooms are full of portraits of his relations. One painting turns to watch as you walk by. No kidding, the feet and the face appear to turn from right to left and the eyes follow you. If you don’t believe me go and see it. There are claustrophobic heavy carved wooden palanquins with curtains to transport Ranis about. They must have been very hot and uncomfortable. The crowd gathers round and I am aware of the increasing temperature and our body smells, warm hippos, fish and pee. George takes me into every room. Beautiful wall paintings illustrate the life of Vishnu, his avataras and incarnations. Oh I get it ‘Avatar,’ durr that’s why they were blue.  I begin to hope the next room is the last one. George leaps at some backpackers who are taking photos in total disregard of all the sign stating we MUST not.

We visit the St Francis Xavier's catholic church another present from the Portuguese in 1503 together with their religion. Very hot outside, nice and cool inside.

The morning moves on and the next stop is the laundry. George says the government has ruled that dhobi people, who come from the Harijan caste an unlawful label now, must be paid a good wage. The workers therefore like to stay. The fishermen though are paid very badly and are poor. 

We go out to the washing hanging on the lines. I turn as George carefully unfolds a spotless white hanky which he puts on his head. He loses none of his dignity insisting I notice how washing is fixed in a twisted double line - no pegs. My brain begins to boil.

Inside again the iron is heated on a charcoal box. He invites me to try it and true to my home practice I burn myself, ouch. We both giggle.

As the morning progresses we visit the ancient Paradisi Synagogue in Jew town. I meet Sarah a very elderly Jew who sits embroidering by a shop door. I could do that in Sandgate. A local tourist attraction, Dorcas the elderly ...... (insert your own word.)  

The heat grows and grows beginning to weigh me down. I walk more slowly.  ‘George, I am getting very hot now.’ He looks at me closely and makes a management decision about his timetable. ‘OK Mem, you go in here and see the dragon boat, I am calling the car.’ I walk into the shade and he calls Kieran on his mobile. Thank goodness I don’t have to wait for a palanquin.

Parp, parp, Kieran’s here, we fall into the cool car and guzzle water. I have had enough sightseeing so we return to the hotel. George giggles with delight at his tip. Kieran says, ‘I will be ready at 4.30 tomorrow morning to take you to the airport.’ OK fine, I walk into the restaurant, flop into a chair and order a big bottle of cold water and another of cold strong beer. It tastes like iced Barley Wine. Fried fish in banana leaves, coconut rice and to follow flambéed pineapple in syrup with ice cream makes me feel a lot better. Although it all takes about two hours to  complete it is worth it.

Time to pack and have a swim.

A late dinner in the evening and last half bottle of ‘Sula’ to help me sleep. The restaurant is full. They have run out of tables but do not turn business away. Gradually the spare chairs at my table are politely taken and put up against coffee tables and collapsible tables brought in from the poolside and squeezed in the aisles. All nationalities are talking and enjoying the food which takes even longer because there are only 2 chefs. Wonderful.

Early morning day 14, 16th Jan 2013

I get up at 3.30am and have to wake Kieran up sleeping in the car outside. We drive off through the warm empty streets arriving well early at Cochin Airport. We hug modestly, say goodbye and go our separate ways. I turn towards home.

Goodbye Kerala I have loved seeing you.

Day 12 The Kathakali Dancers.

I was late for the dancers but Kieran said it was OK because the first hour is make-up and it’s boring. They went from this:

to this dramatic make up and costumes.

There is a full audience and I told Kieran I could walk back by myself, he needn't wait. The culture centre is next door to the bus station and as long as I don’t take a short cut past the bit overlooked by my windows, the men’s pee place, I knew I would be OK.  The dancing is good the female role played by a middle aged man. A young couple on their honeymoon sit next to me. Afterwards I stroll back to the hotel in the warm, bustling evening air going in through the restaurant which opens onto the pavement. I have a pleasant meal people watching and then to bed ready for the last day tomorrow. I will be sorry to leave Kerala.

Day 12 continued:                    The hard sell.

Kieran turns round from the front of the car to make his point seriously.

‘Mem, I will take you to the Government Museum shop. You go in, see what you want to buy and look at the price. Don’t buy and I will take you to my cousin’s shop where he will give you a better price for the same things.’

I already know what I want but am happy to follow his instructions and see what else there is. 

I go into an air craft hangar of an emporium. It has everything Kerala makes for tourists and they are very good quality. A number of rooms are overstocked with different goods, three men sit in the shade inside the door chatting to each other. I smile and say, ‘just looking.’ They wave me towards the interior.

I start with wooden carvings, beautiful intricate Buddhas and Ganeshas in different dark and light woods. Sandalwood is now protected but there is a heavy fragrance coming from the room. Turning I notice a smiling man shadowing me. He is tall, mid thirties with melted caramel eyes.

He offers me a cup of scented sweet tea and we talk about the carpets in the next room.

‘Who makes them, not children I hope?’

‘No Mem, I can make carpets.’ He shows me a book of photos full of carpet weavers. ‘They are hand stitched by experts. Just feel the carpet.’ He unfurls one and its colours shimmer on the floor. I bend down to feel, mmm silky.

He kneels in front of me and looks up, ‘kneel down Mem to see closer.’

I laugh, ‘my knees won’t kneel down sorry.’

He pats the carpet, ‘sit down.’

More laughter, ‘I wouldn't be able to get up again.’

‘Please Mem; take off your shoes to feel with your feet.’ I slip off my sandals and it is a lovely soft carpet.

‘Excuse Mem,’ he takes my feet and gently puts my shoes back on managing to quietly squeeze my calf at the same time. I think, he’s flirting with me but I'm 70 years old. This is interesting.

We move on to the next room. Lovely jewellery, lots of intricate gold and silver. Some marcasite set with turquoise, bracelets, necklaces and ear rings. Again fascinating but I don’t want to buy any.

‘Try them on Mem.’ ‘No thank you.’ ‘But you are so beautiful they will make you happy.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Yes Mem, beautiful smile and very young on the inside, this necklace is right for you.’ I can’t help laughing and he laughs too, enjoying himself.

He looks down at me, ‘I love your smiling eyes; I wish you would come to my house.’ There’s no polite answer to that so I move into the next room. It is full of silks, saris and pashminas.’

‘Try one on Mem.’ 

‘I am going back by plane, no room in my suitcase.’ 

‘We will post it to you. We can send carpets as well by post.’ ‘They will remind you of me and Kerala, I can see you have been happy here.’

‘I have, it is a lovely country.’

‘And me, I am charming.’ 

‘Yes you certainly are charming.’ I walk towards the door.

‘Mem, Mem you haven’t seen upstairs there is more.’ I hesitate. Oh what harm can it do?

We go up the wooden stairs to another room full of small stone sculptures.

 And there they are. The complete set of Hindu positions from the Karma Sutra, fascinating. Inside my head I would like to go forward and inspect them closely but my 70 years hold back, time to go really.

I smile at him. He says, ‘People enjoying touching,’

I feel like a memsahib out of a 'Passage to India.' 'Well I'm sorry, I must go. I'm going to think about what to buy and come back tomorrow.’

I walk down slowly and towards the door.

‘You will come back?’

‘Yes, tomorrow.’

He takes my hand as we emerge into the afternoon sun. ‘You will come back tomorrow?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because Mem, if you don’t come back my charm hasn't been working.’

‘Oh yes your charm has definitely been working, until tomorrow then.’ I jump into the car and heave a sigh.

‘Kieran, that man could sell the water from his Grannie’s well even if it was dry.’

Kieran doesn’t understand and I have to explain. He laughs. ‘Did you buy anything?’ ‘No.’

Actually, I didn't buy any of it............. but it was tempting. 

We go to the cousin’s shop and after a lot of negotiation I buy two pashminas and some jewellery. He knocks off zillions from his first price and everyone’s honour is satisfied. As Kieran takes me back to the hotel I say, ‘you deserve a big pay off from your cousin, I spent loads of money.’ He grins and agrees. ‘He gives me free shirts and trousers.’ ‘Well so he should.’

Day 12              14^th Jan 13        Down the mountains to Cochin.

We set off for Cochin early. At the start of the journey we bump down a mountain track. Kieran says reassuringly we are taking a short cut to the main road. Oh oh.

At a fork he asks which way from three men and they point ‘Gari, gari, on, on, down, down.’

We arrive at the main road safely. It is similar to our ‘B’ roads after the electricity board has finished repairs,   lumpy, pitted tarmac. No real edge or pavement means we can stray onto the dusty verge among pedestrians if we have to get past something filling up the roadspace. Through villages where grey square houses and small colourful shops form strips on each side. I think unjustifiably, hope they don’t exchange all this for supermarkets and shopping malls, shiny chrome and glass.  I'm enjoying the bustle and colour but then I'm a daft, romantic tourist in an air conditioned car – not trying to make a living – so probably misguided. Tin shacks half hidden beneath coconut palms, watch over fields of pineapples, bananas, rubber trees and groves of little oranges. The stalls are piled high with produce. Billboards paddling in plastic chuckaway rubbish advertise plum cake, political parties and motor bikes. Huge seductive photographs flash red lips, kohl eyes and filigree bindis, in silk saris embellished with gold jewellery.

We stop; a cup of tea for Kieran and a wee for me. The restaurant on rickety scaffolding overlooks some fields and has a polluted stream circling suspiciously underneath. It makes me rub my hands obsessively with protector before using the toilet as well as afterwards. I see another European woman emerge tucking her toilet kit away while rubbing her hands too. 

As we move towards the outskirts of Cochin all kinds of churches and shrines interweave along the road. Some saints in their towers have been wrapped in white cloth to wait for the next festival. Traffic soon becomes congested and the cacophony increases. Boys and girls proudly sport bright school uniforms.  They love to wave and smile at me, giggling as we edge by.

Making good time, we turn into my last hotel and receive the usual welcome, improvised salutes from the guard, prompt attention from the porters. I go up to my room and it is as clean and cool as all the others. Lunch then shopping, then a performance of Kathakali dance in the culture centre next door. I draw some heavy net curtains back and find I am overlooking the bus station. Oh and there’s a man relieving himself towards me down a bank. A great view of Cochin, I close them again and chuckle.