The Man from Three Rivers (Munnar)
There was movement at the station as the people milled around,
A beggar shook his cup in mournful tune.
The rubbish danced unnoticed as it fluttered from the ground
And rising sun saluted hazy moon.

The Munnar Man stood poised to write in History’s book by hand,
Every muscle in his torso set to rock.
Pensive in reflection, slowly masticating paan,
Six hours, twenty seven read the clock.

So many days have come and gone, a score of years at least,
Since raging Sanjay Gupta left his mark.
3 hours 43 he took to drive his metal beast,
From old Kochin to hinterland Munnar.

The people say it can’t be beat, with the traffic on the run,
With every thing a passing chance to hit.
But he knows that his bus is fast and skill is matched by none,
He’s whittled down the margin bit by bit.

So the people clambered upwards for a place in future glory,
Or else a death in some unknown ravine.
And last aboard the ticketman, who’ll feature in this story,
Shuffled forth collecting gold and green.

Blazing through the outskirts with his horn and screeching tyres,
Reaching speeds that only dawn allows.
Crashing through the odours of the streets and pavement fires
Dodging rickshaws, buses, cars and cows.

So to the hills he races with his lurching beast restrained,
The curves a blur for all of those onboard,
Soon will come the moment for which he’s ever trained,
The record his for now and ever more.

Round and round the corners as the bus would ever climb,
Hitting potholes, drifting left and right;
Right before the summit came a ‘clunk’ in space and time,
And for a tick the beast he drove took flight.

But nothing could deter the man on this his day of fate
3 hours 41 had come and gone,
When ladened bus with ghost-white folk did pass through Munnar’s gate
And stop outside the crowd in winter’s sun.

“Hurrah!!” He yelled “I’ve done it!” and he turned around with speed
Looking for the ticket man to say
“Congratulations Munnar Man, my watch fulfills the need,
Of proving that the record’s yours today”

Alas, it was this moment when he saw it was for sure
That the ticketman had sent his quest astray
And in this fellow’s absence were the taunting open doors
For you see he’d fallen out along the way…

{Baboom Cha}

Another week and all was well; even slightly more adventurous dabblings in cuisine went unpunished. And then, after accepting a meal of vermicelli and home cooked sauce from a home-style hotelier, it commenced. Storm was first to be stricken down; her fortitude slowly eroded by a six hour bus ride over bumpy roads and persistently high temperatures. At our destination – the lovely canal-bounded town of Ernakulum -, she could stomach no more than tomato soup at a local restaurant before collapsing, bedraggled and exhausted, into bed. I would follow into fever and diarrhea soon enough, and for the next day or so we would rush frequently (and fortunately not concurrently) between the toilet and mattress.

So what is the point of this post I hear you ask. Well, as we lay there, feeling as though our innards had been scooped out like ice-cream, I would gaze glassy eyed at the ceiling. And who would appear before me? None other than my best of best friends, ye ole’ Lleyton Hewitt. Storm failed to see the connection between a few pieces of peeling paint and that most iconic of Australian sporting stars. But I could see the resemblance, and I present the evidence to you now…

Do you stand amazed and bewildered? Or has my vermicelli induced delirium simply remained with me to this day?

Thanks to the people who responded to my correspondence; it was nice to know that some folks enjoyed hearing random tales from the subcontinent. The only thing that remains to be said is I now have a decorative Sitar sitting in the corner of my room, the reasoning being that even if it’s never played it will still look cool in any abode. And for $240 all told, it was too hard to pass up.

Bahut Maja Aya!

There are three things I really won’t miss from these parts.

1) The propensity to beep: at all times, at all oncomers, even at a distance of less than a few feet. Luxury cars seem to have the most brutish horns; horns that are so strong that you eardrums run cowering into the further crevices of your skull.
2) High beams at night: why? No-one knows. But they all do it…Always.
3) Rubbish: Unfortunately, it was an all too familiar sight when Storm and I passed a beautiful waterfall of around 100m on the way to Munnar surrounded by litter and rubbish. The trains and their passengers are particularly bad offenders; one man took an apparent pleasure in taking my plastic dinner tray from my hands and dropping it with a thud beside the tracks.

Anyways…enough whinging from me…

And although we lost a day to the pitch of fever and grating angle grinder, we are now happy and medicated on the shores of the Arabian sea once more. Storm’s face as we drifted along the backwater canals yesterday, however, was something to catalog for when people challenge the intensity of our Indian trip in years to come. “Yeah man….we did it rough”…

So three more days and then it’s back to Oz. Having recently completed Shantaram we are both ready for the sights and sites of Bombay before cramming in some shopping with the last of our rupees and jetting home…

James

So we’ve decided ignorance is the key and we’ve stepped in line and taken our ticket in the large deli counter called life. I guess when the number’s up…it’s roast chickens for you.

Anyways, today the bus driving was better than the day before – although road conditions continued to deteriorate as the journey continued. After 4 1/2 hours on the road I can honestly say that I can empathise with one of my old t-shirts during the ‘agitator’ wash cycle. I could feel the dirt shuddering its way out of my clothes. My shirt that was dirty yesterday – clean… A bit of spit and a 4 1/2 hr bus ride removes even the most unsightly stain. At least it feels that way.

The persistent knocks of the trip, however, were easily compensated for by the magnificent panoramas as we passed along the spine of the Western Ghats. Huge, lush valleys with tea plantations continued to extend into the hazy distance for the majority of our trip and dense shades of green were everywhere. We’ve finally bumped our way into Kumily – ready for elephants, tigers (probably not) and monkeys. Not to mention the 3 or 5 hr massage Storm and I are contemplating for the morrow (for the princley sum of $18 for 3 hrs).

This part of our trip has been most enjoyable and as we strolled along last night in relative silence, surrounded by glow bugs and ubiquitous tea, we felt thoroughly justified in our decision to head south (despite hearing murmerings of the wonderful times our friends have had in the northwest of the country). And now that we know that spices are allowed through quarantine, expect plenty of home-made Indian food from Strommage and myself in coming months…maybe.

Hope everyone is uber-well and not long now till it’s all over. Although, at the moment I’m averaging about 3 posts an hour so I’m sure you haven’t heard the last of us…

Peace, Love and Katzenjammer…

James and Storm

After having undeserved luck on our first train trip, we should’ve expected some approaching inconveniences. The 1 hour train delay might’ve indicated a large number of people entering and exiting carriages. The fact that trains were fully booked until the 25th might have alluded to the fact that things might be cramped. The occurence of Indian holidays might have pointed to difficulties in upgrading…but we were determined to get into Kerala at (almost) all costs. And we paid our dues…

The train was completely full. Think sardines sleeping in three-tier sleepers. Think smelly feet and closed windows. Think 35 degree heat and high humidity…luckily, we didn’t have to deal with that. The absence of sleepers meant that Storm and I created a bivouac in the corrider near the exits downwind of the toilets. The fresh air was invigorating, the metal ribbings of the floor left lasting impressions and,when the train stopped, the smell of latrines was potent to say the least. This is not to complain, however, as we slept a few hours of intermittent sleep, absorbing sideways glances from fellow commuters before four Coffee sellers converged on us at 5am. If you’ve been on an indian train, you know what I mean.

Indians being Indians, however, we were offered beds by some lovely cohabitants and fell into a comparatively rich slumber (until the heat was no longer bearable). A few hours later and we arrived in Kochi – a total of 1096 kilometres, at a price of $4.50 each. Not bad in my books.

After 2 days in blatant heat and humidity, and a minor run-in with bed bugs, Storm and I have arrived in Munnar. The bus trip up the mountains was worthy of mention of its own accord and will be presented in a lyrically-charged later post. The surrounds are gorgeous: tea plantations, beautiful valleys, eucalypt forests and green – everywhere green. The patterns of the tea plantations kept us amused for hours as we bumped along for a 64 km rickshaw roundtrip to see various sights and sites. (The least convincing of which was Echo point – a place on the edge of a lake where one could yell and hear an echo – something that might be achieved with similar success in a bathtub, or underwater.)

Our guide, Bala, was uber-lovely and went out of his way in kindness. His offers to take us an additional 120km by rickshaw tomorrow were politely refused, however, as we have been bumping, swaying and vibrating on various forms of transport for the last week. Time to read and drink some ever abundant tea.

So we’ll leave you in good health and in fresh air. We hope you are well and will speak to you soon. Btw…I saw an elephant…

Next Periyar and Trivandrum before Mumbai and home…

Love

James and Storm

Sleeping on the floor (near the toilets unfortunately) of an indian train…tick

Laughing at the lameness of some of supposed “attractions” (Echo Point case in point)…tick

Having my shirt sleeve eaten by a goat…tick.

to be continued…

Storm and I had only just decided to head south to the heat and humidity of Kerala, with a stopover in Goa on the west coast. Disorganisation had the potential to ruin our cleverly underlaid plans, however, as we were unable to reserve airconditioned bunks for the 17 hour overnight train journey from Pune. So we lined up for unreserved tickets and sat around for 3 hours, admiring the manner with which Indians board trains – through emergency exits, with both elbows swinging and surging crowds. We looked at each other in anxious anticipation of our turn at ‘hopefully’ securing a place on our train. Meanwhile, we had to absorb about 5000 man-hours of awkward staring, as passers-by made no attempt to conceal their curiosity.

Finally, the moment arrived and our train squealed to a halt. As we’d predicted, the crush was not so great for the A/C sections and we sidled in to a cabin, hoping that we would be able to upgrade without too much fuss. Alas, no. We were shuffled down to Sleeper carriage 7 by two conductors and found a relatively empty cabin in which to set out our things. What a stroke of unreserved fortune it was as Storm and I have both heartily agreed that the flowing air and open windows of the Sleeper class made our journey and set a wonderful precedent for any future travelling we may undertake. Hot, dusty breezes made way for cooler evening air as we thrummed along, keeping good company with a couple of army boys who spoke about half a lick of english each.

Anyways, I ramble…

And so we have reached Goa, a place unlike any other in India; a place full of catholic churches and cathedrals, pleasant town alleys and Portuguese style architecture and bars (due largely to the 500 or so years the Portuguese maintained control over the colony). We are now in the south, getting a taste of what Goa would ‘offer’ in summer months – westerners devouting many an hour to tans and beer bellies.

Tomorrow we head to Kerala for a taste of the south with tea plantations, canal cruises and wildlife sanctuaries awaiting (not to mention some more trains).

Not bad for a last minute decision to head south on a whim and a couple of unreserved tickets…

Hope you are all well…

James and Storm.

And then to the ensuing buck’s party, with shots of tequila and another 6 beers. It appears as though I’ve fallen off the wagon (or Auto-rickshaw) with a thud…

So Cheers from Goa as the sun is about to set over the ocean…I love it when that happens…