Days 13 & 14 -- Cruising the Backwaters
So, I was wrong. There WAS a satellite dish on board our houseboat! But thank god it didn't provide internet access. In fact, we refused on principle to power up the flatscreen TV (and five-speaker surround sound system) which was on the outdoor deck. I mean, what could be greener than the lush wetlands and rice paddies of the largely unspoiled backwater tributaries of Vembanad Lake in Alleppy? Our 70-foot, 2-bedroom, diesel- powered "Kettuvallom" boat, patterned after the rice barges that still ply the backwaters, was made with a teak wood hull and thatched roof, had solar panels and compact fluorescent bulbs in the sockets. We spent a lazy day and evening slowly motoring through what is the longest lake and canal system in all of India. While the scene was bucolic, we were never far from the other Kettuvalloms, some carrying tourists like us and others carrying locals out for pleasure touring. Colorfully dressed men and women paddled canoes, ferrying supplies to and from the homes and businesses along the waterways. The lives we glimpsed seemed to be simple and modest ones. Women scrubbed laundry on the rocks at the shoreline. Men, young and old, herded animals and harvested coconuts. People gathered at the mosque. Others boarded public river-buses on the way to the rice paddies, coir rope factories, or into town. Children in their neat uniforms smiled and waved as they went by in their floating school buses. People of all ages waded into the waters to bathe and wash dishes. If not for the soft rumble of motors and the ever-present honking horns (yes, even on the boats), we could have been fooled into thinking we'd gone back centuries in time.
Interesting note: we saw evidence of Kerala's long-standing affinity for communist party politics. When Sylvia and I wandered at dusk into the jungle village we came upon a short paved path with an inlaid hammer and sickle mosaic. Some street signs bore the symbol and there were buildings and clubs named for Vladimir Lenin.
Interesting note: we saw evidence of Kerala's long-standing affinity for communist party politics. When Sylvia and I wandered at dusk into the jungle village we came upon a short paved path with an inlaid hammer and sickle mosaic. Some street signs bore the symbol and there were buildings and clubs named for Vladimir Lenin.
Heading Home Under Close Watch
The last morning of our trip, we made our way back from the lake to the airport in Kochi almost three hours away, stopping at a deserted beach on the Arabian Sea. At a roadside antique market, Sylvia picked out 20 beautiful, old hand-painted ceramic drawer pulls for 50 cents a piece. We took took pictures of some amusing billboards and signs along the way. And we had one more delicious meal at a family restaurant in the prosperous and bustling town of Ernakulum. With that, we set out on the 24-hour trip that would take us from Kerala to Mumbai to Newark, New Jersey. I'm pleased to report that of the six flights we've taken over 14 days, they've all been reasonably on time! That's not to say that traveling is not a huge hassle these days. For our flight from Mumbai to Newark, alone, we went through a complete screening and body search three times. We were interviewed twice. Sylvia's drawer pulls almost didn't make it on the plane since at first no one could figure out what they were and then their long blunt screws were classified as sharp objects. If we weren't so tired and hassled, we might have laughed at the sight of three armed guards huddled over the pile of knobs, trying to decide what to do. The good news was, the final check at the gate made Jeff realize he had left his i-Pad in the airport lounge! So he ran back and retrieved it. Thanks TSA. We owe you.
Signs that made us laugh
Maybe we were getting a little giddy from all the traveling, but the messages along the roadside kept us entertained.