Citizenship

This is a contentious concept across the world over as nationalism rises. Here demonstrations are countrywide due to the Citizens Amendment Act in December disallowing Muslim citizenship in many cases. In Kochi I joined a rally of Muslim women in Vasco Da Gama Square, who were peacefully and passionately demonstrating about the loss of their citizenship rights.  One of the protests was eager to answer my questions and asked me to pray for them at this difficult time. 

How international we are

So in my block of six berths on my overnight train heading north, we all emerge sleepy eyed from under our Indian Railways sheets. Suddenly there’s 9 of us sitting side by side and opposite and we get chatting and sharing snacks, the fabulous social element to train travel. The retired couple next to me are from Tamil Nadu, now living in Bangalore, and have been visiting family for Christmas.  They have two sons, one working in Germany and the other in Taiwan. And the couple on the aisle seats with a small son once lived in Plymouth working for the council and lastly the retired math teachers son is working in Kings College hospital in London.  How international we are! 

Waiting to hear if my train ticket will be confirmed

It’s peak travel season here and everyone is on the move. Even when I booked this ticket in early November it was not confirmed so I was on waitlist.  And I had to be on this train on the 27th to travel overnight to Mysore, so I was so relieved to see the ticket confirmed late afternoon of my travel, but I’ve boarded trains before still on waitlist and there’s always a way to make it work.

The only time I feel slightly anxious is making sure I’m on the right platform and then to stand by the right carriage. In London you can always tell the savvy commuters, who know where to stand to be at the carriage doors. Here the trains are giant beats, perhaps 20 carriages long and believe me I’ve only done it once where I’ve had to traverse every carriage with a rucksack, managing to bump into every protruding foot of the slumbering passengers. So I normally head straight to the station masters office to get the info, then wait in the ladies waiting room, and then find a friendly family! I hit the jackpot, and found a family who were in the same carriage as me, so we waited together until the delayed train thundered into the station at 10.15pm.  The husband questioned my solo travel, asking “you have no one to help you?” I’m not sure he realises but he’s part of my helpful gang! 

I’ll take you there for free

In all the major tourist spots there’s always a few large tourist shops, peddled as Government sanctioned, where the auto rickshaw want to take you, in addition to your requested destination as they get petrol coupons and a commission on whatever overpriced item you buy. Interesting these emporiums are mostly run by Kashmiris with smooth patter and a hot chai! Consequently you’re often held slightly by ransom and persuaded to visit, but it’s a bit of fun to feign interest in a carpet or shawl, sup a chai and help out the drivers and I’m in no hurry! Hence the auto rickshaw cry of “I’ll take you there for free”!

Christmas in Kochi

It was the Portuguese who were the first Europeans to take and settle in Kochi, then came the Dutch. But there’s also Chinese influences, with the beautiful Chinese fishing nets on the shore line. The island is full of churches, so there were plenty of choice for my midnight mass destination. In the end I went to the nearest one, remembering a rather unexpected traumatic post mass inability to get back to the hotel last year on my last Indian travels, as the streets were patrolled by barking territorial dogs, who were not welcoming to strangers walking on their patch. In the end we had to ask for a lift back to the hotel from fellow worshippers. This time Santa Cruz Church was 5 mins away and the service and went ok and I got back to my room without a hitch!    

You eat like an Indian

One big challenge is to eat without cutlery, and I’m not talking about a challenging sandwich, I’m talking about a biryani or a dosa! As I mostly eat in more local restaurants it’s hands only and I’m up for the challenge. And today, I bought some fish and prawns from the local market and took them to a restaurant to be cooked. Absolutely delicious, and I devoured them, receiving a complement from a near by diner “you eat like an Indian”.

The cooking charge is 200 rupees

After a long bus journey descending the Western Ghats, and then eventual gridlock traffic I arrived at Kochi within 6 hours. I was last here over 20 years ago, exploring Kerela was my second trip to India, the first being an incredible whistle stop tour of Rajasthan. I headed out of my lovely old guest house to the old Chinese fishing nets, a few streets away.  Here by the shore line fish stalls fill the side of the street and you can choose what you like and then head to a near by restaurant overlooking the sea, where they prepare and cook your fish for you. I’ve now moved from one side of India to another and it’s great to see water again! 

Madam you cannot leave

I alternate between paying for or withdrawing cash between my credit card and my travelex cash card. To pay my hotel bill in Munnar it was the turn of the cash card. I popped in my PIN number and the machine didn’t issue a receipt, it just ran out of battery. I popped to an atm to check the balance, and was sure that it has gone through, and then just headed to bed saying to the manager that I’d check in the morning, as he was panicking as the money was not in his bank! 

So by morning the transaction was still pending, according to my  travelex app and I was told that I couldn’t leave Munnar until it had gone through!!!  We tried ringing travelex to no avail, as the manager ran out of credit on his phone, so we headed in to the town bank for a quick meeting with the bank manager. Luckily sense prevailed and he reassured them that it would go through within 24hours and I was duly waved off at the bus station with smiles and relief!

The choir outnumbered the congregation

Just to get a bit more festive I headed to the oldest church in Munnar, established by the Scottish Presbyterian who settled here to set up the tea plantations. As I walked through town the church bellowed our the melody of Silent night, and as I got to the top of the hill to get into the church, slightly out of breath, the vicar got out of the back of the car, aided by a helper. He greeted me and when he went to shake my hand, I realised he was blind. As this was the third service on this Sunday and the only one in English, the choir of three and the organist plus two priests outnumbered the congregation.

And the baby cried

Just as I am fascinated by people, it definitely works the other way. I’m often asked to be in impromptu group photos, and sometimes offered a baby to hold. This invariably just goes one way, the baby is so scared of this large white foreigner that it immediately bursts into tears. Not perturbed the mother still clutches the infant for this strange photo. 

If you can’t stand the heat, head up to the tea plantations

A friend who’s traveled around this region thoroughly recommended the tea plantation town of Munnar. I threw caution to the wind, and unraveled some carefully planned travel bookings and swapped some city days for heading up to this hill station.  From all corners of India, the British cultivated beautiful tea plantations and destinations for those who want to escape the steamy heat of the plains.  The 6 hour bus trip up here was incredible, slowly climbing the Western Ghats and taking hair pin bends with great precision. And a good test of vertigo as we climbed higher and higher! 

Bless me

This is normally uttered in response to a sneeze, but not on this trip.  I hired an auto driver to take me around the surrounding villages of Madurai before I heading into the incredible Meenakshi temple in the evening.  After walking past a tiny temple I was ushered into what was my first Sri Baba temple. A large family were celebrating the dad’s birthday and I’m really not quite sure how this happened but I was suddenly festooned with a huge garland and a temple hat. Then I’m blessed and asked to bless the whole family separately with a metal stick. So I proceed to knight all of them and then packed off with the temple offerings of a packet of biscuits (which will come in handy on my long trip tomorrow) and a laminated Sri Baba money note saying as a follower I’ll get prosperity and wealth!    Very peculiar, so I left and popped the hat in my bag, the garland at the front of the auto and waved as I drove past very bemused....

I’m a government ticket inspector

In all my years of travelling in India I’ve never got off a bus to be met by government ticket inspectors. The problem is the bus ticket is so teeny weeny I’ve no idea where it is and what’s not helping is both the ticket inspector and the bus ticket guy are just chanting “ticket”, whilst a large group of auto drivers have gathered round to watch. Despite the threat of a 500 rupee fine I can’t locate my tiny ticket, but manage to tut enough to get the fine reduced to 100 rupees... what a warm welcome to Madurai!

No meat, no booze, no plate, no cutlery

Coming to India is my detox, it feels easy to give up on what I’m used to indulging. So firstly no meat .... Hindus are strict vegetarians, and most times there’s not a meat or non-veg option. Plus the food is so delicious who needs meat? Then there’s the booze. Shocking as it may seem, I’ve really cut down, so a month without booze will be good, and it’s often more difficult to find, as most of the population, Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, are totally tea total. 

Then no plate, this doesn’t happen all the time, but great when your food is served on a banana leaf. Here in the south it happens more, and I tend to eat at more local restaurants. Hence no cutlery ... it’s a challenge to only eat with your right hand, but it makes you savour your food more.  Can’t lie, I’m relieved when I’m given a spoon! 

Bonjour Madam

The French left Pondicherry in 1954, but there are still many left over quirks. Some police wear red pill  box helmets with pride, along with their long riffles. The old crumbing French quarter is dotted with coffee stalls, and you can head to French bakeries to get exquisite pastries. It’s like a little colonial oasis, just as when you arrive in Laos, and are greeted with the opportunity to eat tasty baguettes and drink great coffee, offering a momentary respite from rice and chai. The old French buildings here are often mustard and white coloured and beautiful bougainvillea add a sweet scent and vivid colour. There’s arty cafes for the tourists and a mixture of churches, mosques and Hindu temples, along with the diminishing sea front, as the beach is receding and blocked with large concrete blocks, to slam the sea back out again. 

You’ll most likely to be greeted in French, as I reply with a very rusty “bonjour”. And I’m off in search of a great masala dosa! 

Are you going to India to find yourself?

There’s something about travelling in India that makes people think you’re either running away from something or going to discover yourself (as I was joking asked after a work meeting recently). I honesty think that I’ve done the most discovery about me over my last three years settling in Cornwall.  There has been both challenge and really changing times, more than choosing where I’ll have a thali in the evening! And I don’t think London Sarah would recognise Cornwall Sarah, enjoying sea swimming, walking coastal paths and making the most of what’s on my door step. That’s change! 

Here in India you are challenged daily on a different level, frustration when things so slightly wrong, or you’re bogged down with beurocracy.  I was absolutely unable to book another train to replace the one I had booked on and was unable to take due to my flight change.  On Saturday every train was full with a wait list - that was frustrating. There’s 1.2 billion people here and so it’s never really quiet, so I took the bus. 

Eating beef bacon in Bahrain

Well the best laid plans do sometimes unravel! There’s a check list to go through with some pocket and bag patting before departure. Visa, passport and tickets check. There’s something I still don’t really understand about airlines, and it’s their overbooking policy. So on my first leg of my flight from Heathrow two passengers needed to be removed, which then caused a long delay in rescheduling the flights take off slot. So there’s already tight timing  getting the connecting flight from Bahrain and we miss it, or so we’re told (as it was still  boarding when we landed!!!). Anyway a load of us are bumped off the flight and are put up in a centrally located Bahrain hotel resulting in an annoying addition to the trip. I had train tickets booked and plans ...

Talking to a fellow passenger from Totnes, who’s a human rights lawyer, interesting says technically were being held against our will, as our contract to get that flight has been broken. So being a hostage in a plush hotel in Bahrain, I ended up eating beef bacon for breakfast with my fellow hostages. 

White madam

There are so many remnants of the Empire still left, and an auto rickshaw driver referred to me in conversation with a temple worshipper as ‘Gori Madam’, which translates to ‘white madam’.

As with most destinations, you choose your style of travel according to your wallet, but often in India you can easily dip into 5 star luxury, stay in an old heritage place or just pop in to eat at the best hotel in town. Here you get an interesting glimpse into old Raj life.

Par Rumpa pum par

It was a lovely experience to go to midnight mass in the Portuguese old city of Dui. A choir assembled at the front of the church and accompanied by a guitar belted out jazzy songs. One of the Christmas carols we sang I’m sure was the little drummer boy, to which in very high notes we had to sing the chorus including Par rumpa pum par.

 It was amazing to go to a mass, as we spend so much time in Hindu temples and it’s nice to see something more familiar, which in the same vain seems so austere compared to local temples. We sat in front of a couple we had met earlier at sunset point, who had travelled to Dui to go to church. The service ended around 1.30am and we had to cadge a lift from a family in the congregation, as the streets were full of barking dogs, unwilling to let us share the sidewalks. 

They’re more English than the English

At Palitana we stayed in an amazing old Palace, where the old great uncle had once taught Edward how to play polo. You get a glimpse into the old Raj, and an unfortunate thing is the removing of the wonderful spices which make Indian food so amazing, to be replaced with bland vegetables fit for an English palette!