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.