Change In Plans

THE COMPLEAT ANGLER

Greetings from Delhi!  We flew here this evening after spending a terrific final day down in Kochi.  Tomorrow morning we say goodbye to India (the place), and board a plane for Kathmandu, Nepal.  This post, however, is about Kochi.

We spent the morning swimming in the pool at the Brunton Boatyard Hotel, and waiting for the second-place competitor in the Volvo Ocean Race to sail past us.  The leaders (Team Ericsson) went right past our hotel room windows at 5:30 this morning, but we were all asleep. In the 10,000 nautical miles since the boats left Cape Town, they have gotten so dispersed that we didn’t actually see anyone come through.  It was fun, though, watching for them and talking about the race.

In the afternoon, we had a terrific local guide named Anuja Skaria take us around old Kochi. Anuja showed us a lot in a few short hours, and had thoughtful answers to all of my amateurish “Kerala Paradox” questions.   

Our first stop was the St. Francis of Assissi Church, which has a history that parallels the involvement of the European powers in Kochi.  A wooden Catholic church was first built by the Portuguese in 1502.  After Vasco da Gama died in Kochi, his body was buried at the church for several years, before being taken to Portugal.  The Dutch took over the church, along with the rest of Kochi, in the 1660s.  They burned the Portuguese church, built a more permanent multi-gabled structure, and repurposed it for the Dutch Reformed Church. The British took over the colony and the church in the 1790s, and converted the parish to Anglicanism.  When the Communist Party of India (Marxist) took control of Kerala in the late 1950s, they decided that the Anglicans could stay.

From the church, we walked along the beach and the sea wall to the row of Chinese fishing nets.  We had been admiring these structures from afar, but with Anuja’s encouragement we walked out onto one of the rigs and offered to help out for a while.

The fishing technique was introduced to Kochi by Chinese traders 400 years ago.  It is pretty simple: submerge the massive net, wait for the tide to bring some fish past, lift the net out of the water and take the fish.  We helped raise and lower the net three times; Zola, Tallulah and me pulling on the ropes alongside the real fishermen.  As we all pulled, they chanted “Ahj … Ahjella! Ahj … Ahjella!,” which may be the Malayalam expression for “Thank you, silly foreigners!” 

Both kids were very excited to see what we caught with each raising of the net.  Cycle #2 yielded about 30 silver mullet fish, each about 5 inches long.  Cycles #1 and 3 each produced only a single, very small mullet.  (Tallulah is holding one of the unfortunates in the picture at the top of the post).  They all got thrown into a water bucket, to be sold at an open-air auction later in the afternoon. 

Anuja took us to the inaccurately named Dutch Palace, which was built originally by the Portuguese as a gift to the local maharajah. The Kochi palace is relatively small and modestly decorated, compared with the massive and elaborate palaces of the Rajasthani kings.  The highlight is a huge (300 meters long, 2 meters high) detailed fresco of the 2,500-year-old Ramayana

epic, the story at the the core of Indian culture.  The fresco is badly preserved (must be tough in the Kerala heat and humidity), but must have been spectacular when it was new. 

Finally, we went to the Kochi synagogue, built in the early 1500s, and still in use today.  As we found out, it is the oldest synagogue in the British Commonwealth, and one of only four known synagogues in the world to have two pulpits.  The history of Jews in Kochi dates back to the first century AD, when a group from Jerusalem found refuge after the Romans sacked and occupied the holy city.  The population was increased dramatically in the 15th century, as Spanish and Portuguese Jews fled the Inquisition.  Most of the community emigrated (back?) to Israel in the last 60 years, so the population has dwindled to 11 elderly survivors, and only 7 men.  In order to read from the Torah (needing at least 10 men), the congregation has to be supplemented by visitors.  Kerala has a complicated history, but it’s interesting.

After Anuja left us, we sat on the balcony of the Malabar House hotel, and drank a milkshake and Diet Pepsi toast to Kochi, to Kerala, and to India itself.  Our afternoon exploring old Kochi was a great way to cap our four weeks in India.

SUNSET CRUISE ON VEMBANAD LAKE

Greetings from Fort Cochin, Kerala. We cancelled our plans to go to Mumbai, and are spending our final few days in India laying low in Kerala. This short post describes what we are doing, and how we have been feeling in the strange days since the terror attacks started in Mumbai on Wednesday night.

We left Fort Cochin for the first time on Thursday morning, driving about 60 minutes to get on a houseboat in Alleppey.  Originally we were supposed to stay on the houseboat until Friday morning, and then fly up to Mumbai.  For obvious reasons, we changed those plans.  Instead, on Friday morning we had the houseboat motor across the massive Vembanad Lake, and deliver us dockside to the Kumarakom Lake Resort.  

KLR, as everyone seems to call it, is a very elegant, comfortable resort about 60 km inland from Kochi.  It was rated “India’s Top Resort” in 2006 and 2007, which is pretty strong.  The staff seemed a little surprised to see us, but they assigned us a little pink bungalow, and welcomed us graciously.  We sent the kids to a pottery workshop, rode bikes in the late-afternoon heat, and went for a sunset cruise on the lake.  Mostly, though, we sat in the sunshine and read on-line reports of the ongoing battle for Mumbai.  

This morning India and I each went out for a run in the village near KLR.  The village is mostly composed of a network of 8-foot-wide asphalt paths, which run parallel to a network of small canals.  The houses are generally connected to the paths by little bridges across the canal (usually just two logs side by side).  There are no cars, except on the main road.   People seem to use the fresh canal water for transportation, for household water, for bathing, and for recreation.  Like everything we have seen in Kerala, though, the houses and the public spaces in the village are clean and well maintained.  Although the brutal heat, and the closeness of the lush jungle feel a little oppressive, we understand why so many foreign tourists rave about visiting Kerala.

Late this afternoon we drove back to Fort Cochin to check back in to the Brunton Boatyard hotel.  The hotel is a reconstruction of a famous old shipyard, and is located right next to Kochi harbor.  From the windows of the hotel, huge freighters and tankers motor past us on their way to the docks.  It is similar to being on the Bosphorous in Istanbul.  To our left, the spidery outlines of the “Chinese fishing nets” look beautiful in the fading light.

CHINESE FISHING NETS

There is a small local ferry that operates from a dock 30 feet from our window.  Throughout the day, it makes several trips each hour across the straits that separate Fort Cochin from the Vypin district about a kilometer away.  Just before sunset, Zola and Tallulah indulged my curiosity about the ferry, and joined me on a quick round trip.  The cost was 24 U.S. cents (combined).  On the return trip we counted 70 foot passengers, 8 cars and small trucks, 8 motor rickshaws, and 33 motorcycles/scooters and their riders, all packed into a space the size of two suburban living rooms.  I was glad that the ferry captain avoided contact with the big vessels in the channel, because I didn’t see any life jackets on board.  On both legs of our round trip, the foot passengers started jumping ashore even before the ferry had stopped moving.  In Kerala, people have places to go and things to do.

Tomorrow evening we fly up to Delhi, and on Monday morning we leave for Kathmandu.  

It feels as though we have been traveling in India for a long time, and that we have seen a lot.  To be honest, we are all feeling emotionally exhausted and a little ragged.

The experience has definitely given us plenty to think about and to process in the coming weeks.  It is probably the single most interesting country I have visited in my life.  

Even despite the Mumbai attacks, India feels like a place we could live and be happy as a family.  Maybe that is just prestalgia talking, but we will re-evaluate in the weeks and months to come.

A KERALA HOUSEBOAT

Greetings from Alleppey, Kerala, in the steamy far south of India. This was a strange day.  Our minds were largely focused on the attacks in Mumbai, while our bodies rode around in a rattan houseboat in Kerala’s “Backwaters” district.

OUR KERALA HOUSEBOAT AND JUNIOR HOUSEBOATERS

This post is mostly about Kerala, where we have been since yesterday morning. India is a confusing place for a foreigner.   The state of Kerala is more confusing than the national average
.

There is actually something that economists call “the Kerala Paradox.”  It refers to the state’s very high rankings on quality-of-life indicators (e.g., high literacy, low infant mortality, high caloric intake, practically zero homelessness) but pedestrian economic growth from independence until the late 1990.

As far as I can tell, the high quality-of-life rankings come from Kerala’s long history of income equality, enlightened maharajas, and the outside influences of Europeans and Arabs as trading partners.Comprehensive land reform and commitment to primary education (nearly 100% adult literacy) have been more recent drivers. Poor economic growth has come from politics. Although the Congress Party has ruled India overall for most of the country’s 61-year history, it has only held power in Kerala sporadically. As a semi-dissident state, Kerala has never received much investment from the center.  The business climate was also relatively hostile for much of the last 60 years: rigid labor laws, high taxes, much bureaucracy.

Kerala’s economy struggled along until about 2000, when a new (privately funded) airport was completed in Kochi, and tourism and IT started to boom. Also, highly educated emigres from Kerala to the rest of India, and to the oil-rich Gulf states, remitted loads of money, jump-starting development.

The other paradoxes of Kerala are frankly more difficult to understand. Despite its relative poverty, Kerala’s local government has a longstanding reputation for being honest, pragmatic, and tough-minded. The roads are very good,and the public spaces are clean.   Traffic lights work, and the plentiful signage and tourism sights are sponsored through advertising from local merchants (cutting-edge public-private partnership). Kerala’s investment climate is now seen as much more friendly to business. This is a state government that understands business, and consistently delivers services for its citizens.

It is paradoxical that Kerala, a relative Singapore of the sub-continent, has been run by the Communist Party of India (Marxist) for most of its history. The parenthetical Marxist reflects the feuds and fissures of the early days of the Indian left.  Kerala may have the only freely elected Communist regime in the world.  Nearly 20 years after the collapse of the Soviet Union, it is jarring to see the hammer and sickle painted on roadways, and emblazoned on campaign posters and flags.  That picture of Che Guevara is more than a fashion statement.

Even more paradoxical, this Communist/Hindu state’s motto is “God’s own country.” Note the capitalization and the singular form of “God.”

The Catholic missionaries did a salutary job in this part of India.  There are crosses, churches, and parochial schools everywhere. This afternoon, we left the houseboat and visited a huge old cathedral, in a parish which dates from Portuguese occupation of Kerala in the early 1500s. The frescoes and statues were garish and bloody and spectacular. As Zola said, “This feels more like Italy than India.” A genuflecting parishioner in the pew behind us summarized this religious paradox by clacking his rosary beads while chanting the classic “Ommmmmmmm” of Buddhist meditation.

Last night we went on a harbor cruise in Kochi.  As we watched a beautiful sunset over the communist/capitalist/Hindu/Catholic city, the Muslim call to prayer blared loudly from muezzins all along the waterfront, complicating our perceptions even further.

After the cruise, we watched an hour-long classical dance (Kathakali), which was performed by heavily made-up men, many of whom were in drag. The ancient Kathakali form is similar to Japanese kabuki, but has more martial arts, and is even more stylized, if that is possible.

Incidentally, it is brutally hot and humid here, even in late November. All painted surfaces are profoundly mildewed, and it looks as though the jungle could reclaim most of the buildings over a long weekend.  The lushness of the jungle hangs over everything, and life revolves around the freshwater canals and the ocean. The mosquitoes would be truly terrible if it weren’t for the enormous (e.g., housecat-sized) bats that patrol the night skies.

So, before today I thought I understood about 3% of India, but was learning and understanding more each day. With our brief introduction to Kerala, and (much more significantly) with the ongoing terror attacks in Mumbai which we narrowly avoided being in the middle of, I feel like I am back at square one. Also, we had been starting to feel very comfortable here in India, but now not so much.

On the positive side, Zola and Lu are back in the galley, mixing and rolling chapatis with the houseboat’s chef. We can hear them laughing as we sit on the foredeck in the evening breeze. We are about to feast on tiger prawns caught this morning, and on rice from paddies we could see before the sun set. No pumpkin pie, but maybe a saffron noodle pudding for dessert.

We are very thankful to have not been in Mumbai last night, and very thankful for the outpouring of support and love from friends and family around the world. We are most thankful for each other, and for the great blessing of this time together as a family.

Happy Thanksgiving.

We found out about the terror attacks when our brother-in-law called our hotel room before 6am. No idea how he found us (cell phones were all off), but glad that he did.

We are all safe, staying in Kochi, about 1,000 miles from Mumbai. We were in Mumbai on Tuesday night, but flew down here early yesterday morning.  We were booked to fly back to Mumbai and stay at the Taj Mahal hotel on Friday and Saturday nights. These terror attacks feel way too close for comfort.

Suddenly my ill-informed little observations on Indian society, and my recounting of “cute things our kids do and say” don’t seem like so much fun anymore.

We are figuring out what to do next, and laying low in the meantime. Our plans for a weekend in Mumbai, a dinner party with old friends, seeing the sights, don’t look likely. We may stay down in Kerala, or may go up to Nepal a few days early. Plans are changing.

On this Thanksgiving morning, we feel like we are very far from home. We are very thankful for each other, and for our friends and family around the world. We are also thankful that we didn’t arrive in Mumbai two days earlier.

We are sorry if any of you have worried about us. We are a little freaked out, but otherwise fine.

Peter & India (the person)
Zola & Tallulah