Off to Kollam

There is more than one way to get to Kollam, my next destination. I just preferred to go by the Government boat service rather than the noisy road and I will be getting the train back to Cochin. Grudgingly, I was dropped in Alleppy but not at the same place where the boats go to Kollam so I hailed a tuk tuk. I was almost 1 ½ hours early for the boat but I amused myself talking to some locals and some backpackers, of which 2 were getting the same boat as me. The first Dutchie I had met on my travels, Danielle and her English boyfriend, Chris were on their way to Ashram, the hippy village where there’s a woman who hugs everyone. They live outside Tilburg in the south of the Netherlands and it was good to have company on the boat, which was surprisingly comfortable and empty so there was plenty of space to lie down and chill out. This Government run service takes 8 hours down the waterways to Kollam and costs 300 Rupees. It made us realise that the houseboat tour is grossly over-priced at 6,500 Rupees per day!

The trip didn’t go without incident. We broke down for about 45 minutes and had a couple of crashes, in fact the driver was seriously rubbish. There was an allotted stop for lunch at a pretty place God knows where. We sat down, a piece of green paper was put in front of us (with thousands and thousands of banana trees around, why use paper when we could eat off a banana leaf, which incidentally, do not smell of bananas), rice, runny dhal and 4 curries were dolloped onto our piece of paper and a popadum and that was lunch. 75 Rupees. I have eaten a lot worse!

The boat to Kollam

Fishing Boat

After Ashram where I bade farewell to Danielle and Chris and made tentative plans to meet up with them on Queen’s Day, we were well behind schedule but that didn’t prevent our tea stop at 4pm. At least the toilets were clean at the tea place whereas the one on the boat got riper and riper as the journey progressed. The scenery became less beautiful and before long the plastic made an unwelcome return and I saw my first signs of something close to poverty with the make-shift shacks on the canals. Everyone was smiling though and the boys and young men played cricket in the sand dunes and amongst the palm trees. Approaching Kollam, colourful fishing boats lined the canals. Apparently, this is still a thriving fishing community, which is good to hear.

The canal and sea are separated by narrow strips of land. At one point I saw, what looked like, the building of sea defences. With the tragedy of Japan fresh in my mind, it was obvious that if something similar happened here, these communities would be entirely wiped out.

The last part of the journey was uninteresting and smelly! It was dark by the time the battered boat moored up so I got into the first taxi I could and asked him to take me to my hotel. At least I got to have a ride in an Ambassador Nova, great looking cars. The driver almost point blank refused to drop me at my hotel as it is a 5 star hotel and obviously 5 star people don’t travel by public ferry and look like backpackers. He kept asking me the name of the hotel, thinking I must clearly be staying somewhere else.  Of course, this annoyed me and I had to shout at him to actually drive into the hotel grounds.

Everything went steeply downhill from then in The Quilon Beach Hotel (formerly The Beach Orchid). I was given a room where there was some seriously bad pounding noise. I was so tired, I just wanted a much needed shower as I was filthy and lie down and watch England get thumped in the cricket but I could not ignore the thumping noise. I complained and eventually was moved to another room but as soon as I had settled, the same noise came back, a pounding that was too regular to be the bass of music, more likely to be something to do with an air-conditioning unit. Even watching a film or music with my headphones on, I could hear it so I complained again. 3 hours later, it subsided about 85% but I had to use my ear plugs to eliminate the remaining din. Through sheer exhaustion and with the help of valium, I fell asleep only to be woken up at 07.15 by the telephone with some eejit saying “You requested tea making services”. I had been very good so far not to swear at Indian people and it took all my resolve to not let loose a tirade of abuse. My sleep is sacred and when it is interrupted by some half wit, I get angry, very angry.

The noise was back too so I went downstairs to complain and asked for the manager. Of course, I knew no hotel manager would be on site first thing on a Sunday morning but I was pointed towards some poor 18 year old who got the brunt of my vicious tongue. There were so many absolute pants things about this supposed 5 star hotel and I couldn’t blurt them all out. One reason I booked this place was it advertised a roof top swimming pool so I could chill out and relax in the sunshine. No rooftop pool or rooftop anything. The hotel still advertises it in the hotel literature, in the lift and on the big hoarding they have on the road outside but it hasn’t been there for over 2 years. The other tiny swimming pool has nowhere to sit at all. I asked the teenager for the real manager, who was not available and was lead to have some breakfast which was vile and the breakfast room was full of mosquitoes. I returned to my room but the pounding noise was so loud now, I had to decamp to reception where at least they have comfy seats. Internet is an unbelievable 280 rupees per hour or a ridiculous 550 rupees per day. This place was seriously pissing me off.

The lovely rubbish tip next to the swimming pool

After 40 minutes, some man approached me and just looked at me. I hate this. If you are the manager of a hotel and I am a very unhappy guest, you should at least announce yourself “Good morning, my name is........, I am the Manager of the hotel, I understand you are unhappy with some things about the hotel, is there any way I can assist you?” Instead I just got a stare so I just stared back. Eventually I gave him the home truths about his pathetic hotel but he still didn’t listen, just showed me another room, still with the same noise and said “This is very good room, direct sea view, you want to move here?”

“NO! I don’t care about the sea view or the view of the simply disgusting, dirty and litter-ridden beach, I want a quiet room and somewhere to be comfortable by the swimming pool – please can you just listen to me!?” I would tolerate all these things if I was staying in a 2 star hotel somewhere but to advertise yourself as a 5 star hotel is blatant lying. To date this is the worst place I have stayed in. I made sure this so called manager, who had curry spilt down his tie knew that I would reporting this hotel to Travelogics in Cochin and that I was a travel writer and would be reporting on this shambles (Blog writer didn’t sound very impressive).

Back to reception, to write this while the smoke comes out of my ears and we’ll see what happens next.

Kollam Beach after being cleaned - it is still disgusting

I have been offered a room on the top floor, which materialises to be the 7^th out of 10 floors. It’s still noisy but at least I have a comfy sun longer by the pool which is most definitely not clean. I got in once just to cool off but I wouldn’t submerge my head in it or if I had open wounds, they probably would have got infected.

Back in my room 3 of the plugs didn’t work and there was no hot water. When I asked about the water, I was told of course it was on and I was given a patronising lesson on how to turn the tap to warm. 10 minutes later, an engineer came to the room and said the hot water wasn’t on yet. I hadn’t eaten yet so went to get some food. Both restaurants are advertised to be open all afternoon but that is rubbish too, closed until 7pm.

As the sun is going down, about a million people come onto the beach and bring their litter and play extremely loud music. I would have left Fawlty Towers but I had paid for 5 nights up front and was told I would get nothing back if I left. Anyway, I’m curious on how much else can go wrong.

There is absolutely nothing to write about Kollam. It has a filthy beach, it’s noisy and the weather has been very hot and humid that walking around is unbearably uncomfortable. It still hasn’t rained during the daytime since I’ve been in India. It did during the night once in Munnar and once in Kumily. I wish it would pelt it down now. All I feel like doing to do for the next 2 days in watch cricket on the telly and look forward to getting back to Cochin.

Actually I got up this mnorning (Wednesday 30th March) and went to watch the fishermen drag in their huge nets from the beach. A lot of man power for so very little output. No idea what the fish were that they caught but they looked like whitebait, very small silver things. 

Total catch was 4 of these baskets full of little tiddlers

I have just been out to try and find a bit of company and food and watch the cricket (India v Pakistan). I failed miserably as everyone seems to watch it at home and the streets were deserted. There were crowds around the TV shop window and around the shops which had a TV but I couldn't find anywhere to sit down and watch so wondered back to the hotel, stopping to get some indescribable but yummy street food, a cup of chai, a glass of fresh pineapple juice, 2 big packets of Indian Wotsits and 4 bottles of water (1 litre each), total cost of all that was 110 rupees. To be honest, was quite glad to be back in the hotel as it was 36 degrees out there and I was having problems replacing the fluids I was rapidly losing!

Houseboat in The Backwaters of Kerala

My houseboat arrived at noon at the hotel’s boat landing and I climbed aboard, glad to be free of Ayurveda but sad to be leaving the hammock and swimming pool. There were 3 men, in their early 20s as crew. I wasn’t expecting luxury on the boat but the bed was horrendous, exactly the same tortuous “mattress” as in Wayanad. Thankfully the furniture in the front of the boat, where I would be spending most of my time, was comfortable and mentally planned to sleep on the front bench which had a nice, padded cushion on it.

We stopped for lunch after only 1 ½ hours. I really didn’t appreciate being served up enough food for four people though despite it being wonderful. It’s a bit like buffet food, I never enjoy that either as I feel inclined to eat more than I actually want to. The lunch consisted of popadum, fish, 3 different vegetable dishes, a salad, pickle, yoghurt and enough rice to feed a small Vietnamese army. Hmmmmm.

A little light lunch

I was keen to get going but it’s all very relaxed on the houseboat so after a siesta (for the lads, not me), we got going again. There were hundreds of these houseboats around, made from wood, bamboo and coir (coconut hair) They range in size from 1-7 bedrooms. A quick stop at the local Tesco’s to stock up on a few things (Diet Coke for me) and we headed out into quieter waters.

The local supermarket

I was waited on hand and foot and I think they realised that they had a cushy deal with me as I kept saying no to everything they offered but I couldn’t resist a cup of masala tea of course.

Cuppa tea

Today, India were playing The Convicts in the Cricket World Cup Quarter-Finals. Unfortunately the TV didn’t work while we were chugging down the canals, so as soon as we moored for the night, the lads jumped into action trying to position the satellite dish on the shore which was hilarious. Our arrival had caused the village kids to come out and say hello and ask for pens and money. They were definitely hindering our attempt to get the TV working so were shoed off and a local farmer came to collect his 3 goats, tethered to palm trees next to the boat, maybe they weren’t satellite friendly.

I wanted to stay on this boat

After about half an hour, success and we caught the last couple overs of the Australian innings. It was with great glee that the first ball we saw was Ponting’s wicket. I cheered more than the Indians; it took some explaining to vindicate my hatred for the cheating, spitting, repulsive, little man. Usually, the staff are banished to the stern of the boat but I invited them to stay and watch the game with me, which I know they appreciated. Thankfully they weren’t into guttural snorting and spitting so it was good to have their company.

As we were watching, the chef was cooking prawns and the smells were mouth-watering despite me not being very hungry. At around 8.30pm. dinner arrived. It was ridiculous them bringing me all this food. They explained that they ate the leftovers (I ate all the prawns) but still, there is no reason to bring me 5 different curries and 8 parathas.....A fabulous victory for The Indians and it was time for bed. I said I preferred to sleep on the bench but the staff sleep on the floor in the living area so they lugged the cushion to my bedroom, which really did make a difference. I even had air conditioning which was welcome as it was roasting in my bedroom.

Queen Mary - my boat

I didn’t sleep too badly considering the circumstances. I thought it was just the mosques that had a call to prayers at 05.30 but no, the local Hindu Temple was blaring out music at a similar hour and even with earplugs, the noise woke me up, as did the 3 lads stomping around the boat a little later on. It looked a bit cloudy outside and the atmosphere hung as if it would rain. After 3 ½ weeks of as good as wall to wall blue skies and sunshine, I still didn’t like those clouds, especially not on a boat cruise. They were well-behaved clouds though and didn’t split open.

I went for a short walk along the shore at around 8am. The local villagers all said hello to me, I even got a moo out of a cow and a whole lot of cockle doodle doo’s from the roosters. It was all very serene, colourful and picturesque.

Village house and boat

Little canal

I was still full from the previous days feeding so I had to tell them that I did not want breakfast but I still got a whole pineapple cut up and some tea and toast. I nibbled away just to not offend anyone. Then we were off. The canals continued to be very broad and lined with trees. For some reason, I expected them to be much narrower, not quite Amsterdam style but less than 100 metres. I asked, when and where do they get narrower and in true Indian fashion, I was told “Yes Ma’am, later, later” with a wibbly wobbly head. It’s disconcerting Indians saying yes and shaking their head at the same time. They never actually shake their head as in “no” as “no” doesn’t exist in India.

Millpond Canal

The backwaters are unmistakably, beautiful and it is fascinating watching people going about their business. One word which sprang to mind whilst staring at them was “washing”. Washing themselves, washing clothes, washing dishes, washing food, all in the canal. I have noticed on my travels that Keralan people are extremely clean and absolutely meticulous about hygiene. Considering the sweltering temperatures, I have had a whiff of body odour just once since I arrived. I know for sure this wouldn’t be the case in the UK or Holland in 34°c.

Nice

What makes this place so idyllic is the setting of water and boats followed by palm/banana/mango trees, tiny cottages, then behind them paddy fields with hardly a road in sight. Everyone travels by foot, bicycle and of course boat. Each family is involved in agriculture some way, be it in coconuts, rice, mangoes, bananas and the animals like chickens, goats and not forgetting those lovely cows roam happily around. Manesh, who was the better English speaker, told me that they eat a lot of duck at home too.

Canal one side, paddy field the other side

Eventually, we darted down a much narrower canal and the water disappeared underneath a complete covering of water lilies. Children waved and shouted out hello, mothers ignored us and fathers scowled. I got the impression most houseboats didn’t come down here.  All 3 lads live fairly locally to Alleppy and I shouldn’t have been surprised we stopped around lunchtime at Manesh’s house. Why do I keep ending up at people’s houses? I had another ridiculously huge lunch served to me on the boat while the staff jumped ship and Manesh’s family and neighbours stared at me like a freak. This combined with a bout of constipation, (a side effect of painkillers tramadol and cocodomol) made me fell less than comfortable. It didn’t help that the people lining the shore just loved to shout at each other too creating an irritating din. I would have retired to my room if it hadn’t been for the rock hard bed and it resembling a sauna. (No air conditioning between 8am – 9pm.).

A canal covered in water lillies

Things went a bit downhill from here, not that you can really change altitude on a canal. I don’t think the lads were taking me to the most beautiful areas as we seemed to stick to very wide waterways and lakes and then slowed down to walking pace for some reason that no one would tell me. I was smelling rats. My sense of direction is quite good and we were approaching 5.30pm when houseboats must legally moor up, and I had a feeling we were quite a way from Alleppy where I had to get another boat the following morning at 10am. and if today was anything to go by, we wouldn’t be on the road until 9am. I voiced my concerns and even though I had told Manesh what my plans were, he said “Tomorrow we go to Kumarakom”. Oh dear, here we go. I produced my voucher which said “Kumarakom – Alleppy” but that was not good enough and I was told to phone someone. Who I’m not quite sure, my agent had booked it and the details he and I had were correct so I wasn’t sure what I could do except get a bit annoyed. Finally, we did a 180° turn and broke the 5.30pm curfew by 20 minutes, slap wrists. My mood did the same about turn as I sat and watched a stunning sunset.

Thankfully, the chef had listened to me and my dinner was just a simple fish curry with chaphatis and very very tasty. The owner of the houseboat hadn’t paid for the satellite TV so the cricket went off at the interesting point so I couldn’t witness South Africa getting beaten by the lowly Kiwis. I wasn’t in India to watch cricket but the armchair was comfortable and there was nothing else to do on the boat. I turned in and had an early night.

My crew

Heaven and Hell in Kumarakom

The drive to Kumarakom started out beautiful and interesting. My driver spoke much better English than the previous ones so we actually could construct a conversation or two. For some inexplicable reason, I had ordered a car without air conditioning which was a big mistake. My line of thinking was that it hadn’t been necessary from Munnar to Thekkady but that was at altitude, driving through forests but this time, there were larger towns, traffic and an increase in temperature of maybe 10°c. Leaving at 11am. wasn’t too smart either. I don’t like air conditioning, especially when it’s fierce and you have to actually wear more clothes than you would outdoors or when the cold air is blowing directly onto your dodgy shoulder or knackered back. Things deteriorated as we descended from the hills. To be honest, the rising temperature isn’t what got me hot under the collar but the driver’s relentless use of the car horn. You would have thought I should have been used to it by now but my logical brain refuse to understand the unnecessary honking on a straight road with no other vehicles, pedestrians or cows in sight. I stupidly attempted the hapless task of explaining to the driver that in Europe, we use the horn to avoid accidents (unless you’re a taxi driver in Amsterdam, waiting for a fare outside the “Escape” nightclub at 5am. on a Saturday night) and the indicator as a way of signalling intent to turn or over-take. No reason why you can’t do the same! Why do I always persist in trying to make a point, despite knowing I am being rude and possibly disrespectful? I blame it on that ridiculously intolerant brain of mine.

Good old fashioned punting

My headache from the previous day re-emerged and my mood deteriorated further as we approached Kumarakom, a very small village on Lake Vembanad. The roads are all unmade and I couldn’t spot anywhere to eat in case I wanted to escape from the hotel’s cuisine. For the second time on this trip, the driver went to the wrong hotel. It had happened in Kumily too. He said “Waterscape yes?” to which I said “No. Backwater Ripples. I asked you 2 days ago if you knew it and you replied “Yes””. I should know by now that “yes” doesn’t always mean the affirmative. He had heard “water” and that automatically made him think of Waterscape which is a bit silly seeing as Kumarakom is a touristy place on a lake and almost all of the hotels have either the words “water” or “lake” included in them. He had misheard the price we had agreed on too but I was not going to put up with that monkey business. If I had been in a better mood, maybe but not right then.

Backwater Ripples Hotel

Eventually, we arrived at the hotel where I was glad to get out of the car. Thankfully, the hotel looked beautiful and inviting, more like a luxury resort. I appreciated a swift check-in, my welcome cold pineapple juice and a quick burst of air conditioning in my room. This place is not cheap at around €80/night for the most basic of rooms but the peaceful setting, clean and refreshing swimming pool and impeccably kept grounds were worth it. I came across an Ayurveda centre on the way to my room, past the wonderful aromas coming out of the vents of the attractive looking building and my initial thought was that I could do with a de-stressing head message so I ventured in.

I am writing this after my 5 night stay in Kumarakom but throughout this journey in Kerala, I have been making notes periodically as I think it’s important to record my true emotions at the present time rather than writing with hindsight.  Some of my literary moments of inspiration have struck me when I have been in a tuk tuk and I challenge anyone, apart from my sister, to decipher my hand-written notes from these occasions.

At the Ayurveda Centre I enquired about a de-stressing massage. They had a list of treatments and I was lured into looking through their 3-4 day packages. Before long, it came out that I had a bad back and within a few minutes, the Ayurveda Doctor appeared. OK, I thought, I’m in a lovely relaxing setting, have a relatively comfy bed, I can be weightless in the pool, the sun is out and the hotel has hammocks, God’s little present to those with a back like mine so why not give this alternative mumbo jumbo a bash here. If it doesn’t help then I always have my own course of treatment to fall back onto. (The aforementioned sun and swimming pool)

Watching the sunset from my hammock

I fetched the CDs of my X-Rays and MRI scans and I talked the doc through them. He didn’t look at them very closely or for very long but remarked I was in need of help. He started giving me the Ayurveda chat, which I had heard once before but this was the briefer version and I started questioning everything he said. “Vata – means bones, you are vata”

“What?”

He was trying to say my bones were weak which is rubbish. For someone like me who spent 7 years doing gymnastics, rode bicycles like a stuntman, was fearless and has had more drinking injuries than  care to admit (especially from climbing the barriers in the middle of the A316 en route to the pub after coming out of London Scottish Rugby Club), I have broken the extortionate sum of one bone - my little toe and that wasn’t my fault. I’m not sure if I should also count the time when I nose-butted the wash basin in my bedroom after falling off my trampoline bed. I was only 5 years old at the time so I think it was more a dent in the cartilage, rather than a broken bone. [citation needed from Dr. Woodford, AKA my Mum]. Anyway, I tried to explain there was no problem with my bones, my vertebrae may be deteriorating because there is a lack of discs to cushion them from each other but anyone’s bones would do the same after 30 odd years, in fact I think my vertebrae are in pretty good nick considering the medical facts. He also pointed out that the scoliosis (refer back to Chapter 1 if you’re a newcomer) is a result of weak muscles on one side of my spine. Seeing as the pain started 3 years before I finally gave up gymnastics, I would love to know at what particular time, in these intervening years, my muscles got weak. I was on average a year younger than everyone in my class at school and clearly remember taking on anyone who would challenge me to an arm wrestle during those wet break times when we were stuck inside with absolutely nothing to amuse ourselves. I always won.

Maybe there is an element of truth in the muscle theory but his generalising of medical conditions pissed me off. I tried to strike him down with some badly thought out analogies but he wouldn’t budge. The verdict was I have fragile bones, the muscles on one side of my spine are weak, I don’t breathe properly and my digestion needs to be improved. He even said, just by looking at me, that drinking milk would give me diarrhoea. I haven’t drank a glass of milk since I was force fed it, warm at St. Mary’s School when I was 8 years old and won’t be testing out that theory in a hurry. (Maybe that’s why my bones are so obviously weak)

I was getting nowhere so it was time for a few home truths for Dr. Ayurveda. I asked him “Do you believe in all this stuff?”

“Yes, of course” he said, with his wibbly wobbly head.

“Do you believe that you can help anyone with any disease, condition or injury?”

“Yes” he said cautiously,

“May I be rude? And please can I apologise in advance for what I am about to ask?”

“OK, no problem”

“If you believe in all this, why are you so obviously overweight and risk developing diabetes?” Thankfully he laughed instead of hitting me. He replied saying he believed but he was not practising and was in fact a lazy person who liked watching TV and his wife cooks too much of the wrong type of food for him. At least he was honest. He seemed to think I was the opposite to him in being super active but I couldn’t be bothered to put him right.

Fed up with the conversation, I got straight to the point, “I am here for five days, do you honestly think you can give me any kind of pain relief?”

“Yes”

“Even if I don’t understand all these things you have been saying?”

“Yes”

“OK, how much?”

He devised a program for me and the cost associated with it. I bartered him down and when we agreed on a price, I said “and throw in a free head massage”. If I didn’t try this Ayurveda treatment, then I would be left wondering. If it helped, even a little bit, then I could come back again for a full program and if it didn’t then at least I could still enjoy the hotel’s lovely facilities.

I received my head massage straight away and it was fabulous. I had heard about hair oil from Sadhna, back in Amsterdam and by this time had been using it for about 10 days, after all, when in India......do as the Romans Indians do. It appears to do wonders for your hair so I didn’t mind when Rachel, my personal masseuse/nurse/carer lashed it on. A neck and shoulder massage followed which was fairly tame but pleasurable. The real treatment would begin the next morning at 8am.

Houseboat on the lake

Day 1

Rachel arrived in my room bang on time. She made me lie on my stomach which is always uncomfortable for me as it arches the spine the wrong way, even on a bed. She applied some kind of magical hot paste (lapam) to my lower back. After half an hour she returned, wiped it off and reapplied. After that was washed off, I went to their treatment centre and made my acquaintance with the “Ayurveda Table”. I was asked to climb onto it and again lie on my stomach. I had already pointed out to the doctor and now to Rachel that lying flat on my stomach or back, especially on hard surfaces was seriously painful. She ran off to get a roll up, plastic mat, similar to the type you may put on a sun-lounger but thinner and I lay on that. It was very uncomfortable but I gritted my teeth. The next treatment was something called podikizhi where a bunch of herbs are wrapped tightly into a piece of muslin forming a kind of poultice which was then heated and applied to my back in short, sharp, movements. The smell was a cross between caramel and frying fragrant spices in ghee – nice. It felt good too but my body was beginning to fight the painful position I was in. The muscles in my back went rigid, my shoulders tensed up and I found it difficult to move my head from one side to the other. After the podikizhi I crawled up into a ball to get a moments relief before being laid out again for kateevasthi, the treatment I had seen on the telly, where a ring is formed from herbal plastercine, around the lower spine and hot, herbal oil is poured in, left for 5 minutes and removed. The process is repeated 4-5 times, by which time I was struggling with this position and I made sure that Rachel and the doctor knew this. In a cold climate, this would have put me straight back onto crutches but the delicious Indian heat, the best form of pain relief for me was trying to undo the damage.

The morning’s 2 ½ hour treatment was to be repeated again at 3pm. so I made a beeline for the pool where I floated, stretched and curled up in a ball and the pain subsided. A couple of hours in the hammock, watching the houseboats trundle by, felt blissful and far removed from the pain I had had just 3-4 hours previously.

The afternoon session was in a different room and they had only put a blanket over the hard, wooden table. I refused, point blank to get on that table. Didn’t they listen to me before or did they just think “Sod it, this is the way we do it, she’ll just have to put up with it”? I feigned walking out which prompted Rachel into action and the flimsy mat was retrieved. This time, I positioned myself differently, letting my head flop over the end of the table which prevented the muscles in my neck and shoulders going mental. However, it was still painful in my lower back and my dodgy knees and ankles also began to protest. Back to the doctor to tell him there was no way I was going to gain anything from this treatment if he persisted on inflicting pain on me through the table.

I was drained that evening - watched a beautiful sunset, had a quick dinner in the over air-conditioned, over-priced, restaurant (in fact, I had to go back to my room to put on long trousers and a fleece) and had an early night.

Sunset

Day 2

I slept badly thanks to my back pain and felt pretty dreadful getting out of bed. In the morning I was given the same treatment as the day before but now it was decided that the  .....could be applied with me lying on my side, a decision really could have been made the day before. Why does common sense not always prevail? Unfortunately the...........required me to be flat so there was no reprieve for that half hour.

In the afternoon, I received my first full body massage with about 6 gallons of herbal oil. It felt a lot better than the tortuous lying on my stomach nonsense. Some parts were even enjoyable. This massage really isn’t for the prudish. All your bits and pieces are not just uncovered but your bum and breasts get a good rubbing too. Being a heterosexual woman, this part was a bit disconcerting to say the least and hoped it wouldn’t bother me too much. I also felt a bit like the Bond girl in Goldfinger who was covered in gold and me in oil. Covering every inch of her body didn’t do her any good!

Another Bond moment when I was led to the steam bath after my massage, sat in there with my head popping out of the top. I was just waiting for Sean Connery to nip by, shove a broom handle in between the door handles and turn up the heat. Steam, ie. heat always feels good for my back but the sitting position was not comfortable and that and a dose of claustrophobia got to me after about 10 minutes.

I saw the doctor after I had scrubbed and showered and told him I was not feeling any better, in fact, considerably worse and in my experience, the torture table and prolonged periods of time lying in positions that hurt were to blame. I had pointed this out from the start so unfortunately this was a bit of a “I told you so” conversation. The doctor wanted to try something different and asked me to try a different paste. He looked so pathetic I agreed. Back in my room, some gunk consisting of ground up herbs mixed with egg was applied to my lumber spine and when it had dried, I could move around but it had stuck fast so every little moment gave me a mini waxing which itched like hell. In the mirror, it looked like I had a big cowpat stuck on my back. Doc wanted me to keep it on all night but it irritated me and flaked all over the bed so I put up with it for 5 hours then washed it off.

Day 3

I woke up totally exhausted and in more pain than I have done for a few months so I hit the pain killers. My sense of humour was also being tested to the hilt. More massages and more paste applications. I was beginning to feel very grumpy and the massages made me feel as if my body was being violated. I didn’t want these girls touching parts of me that I consider out of bounds, it wasn’t pleasant and I shied away from their touch and also asked them to stop pulling my toes, after all what in the hell does that have to do with my bad back? I rehearsed the conversation I was going to have with Doc. Apparently the full body massage is for better circulation and the toe pulling is because people want to hear them crack. This was beginning to get farcical, far removed from back pain and I would have pulled the plug there and then if I hadn’t felt sorry for Doc’s and Rachel’s pathetic faces.

At 5pm. the hotel put on a free sunset boat cruise on the lake and until today, I had been on the slab at this time. This time, I made it, took some pain killers and I spent an hour on the water reflecting what all this meant. These are the notes I made during that hour’s cruise, it might give you an idea on my frame of mind:

1.      1. Ayurveda is a sham – there is no knowledge of the anatomy, all ailments seem to be treated under the same premise that increasing oxygen and glucose to ones damaged areas will cure all ills.

2.      2. What a brilliant decision I made in leaving The Ayurvedic place in Wayanad after 2 days. At least I found out the truth in luxury and I could deal with the inflicted pain so much better in a hammock and swimming pool.

3.      3. I have to face up to my damaged back. Today is the last time I shall feel sorry for myself. From now, I shall ignore the pain as much as I possibly can and not inflict my misery on anyone else.

4.      4. I am a very fortunate to have great people around me at home and the best boyfriend on the planet. I live in a beautiful apartment in a fantastic city. I don’t have to worry about money matters or put up with a crap job. Apart from my back, I am healthy and if I ever feel blue, I just walk down my stairs, across the bridge to my second home, Mulligans and 99 times out of 100, there’s someone in there to put a smile on my face. How many people have all this?

For the first time in 3 weeks, that evening I had a non-Indian meal of hot and sour soup and a prawn cocktail. A weird combination but that’s what I fancied. A good night’s sleep followed thanks to a sleeping pill.

Day 4

I took some tramadol this morning to get me through the day. Tramadol gives you a bit of flatulence so I tried not to fart my way through my treatment, although I was tempted...... I refused to get on my stomach so everything was done on my side and finally, someone had tracked down something to lie on which resembled padding. However the damage had been done and I was still experiencing sharp pains in my back. Doc was still trying and asked if he could apply some more cowpat (which apparently was some kind an anti-inflammatory – something that has never helped my back pain) that evening. I declined and said what’s the point? He said that it was reducing the swelling in my back. Poor Doc, he hadn’t understood anything. Swelling doesn’t give me chronic pain, that’s all very secondary. Bones getting too friendly with each other is the problem!

In the evening, I was glad I was almost at the end of this ill-fated experiment. I ate a delicious Kerala Fish Curry in the restaurant and had a good laugh with all the staff there, something that doesn’t happen very often for them unfortunately. I have seen the way that many Indian guests treat hotel staff and it horrifies me, they are so rude and look down on these people serving them. No pleases or thank yous. Disgraceful. I get treated so brilliantly by everyone in India because I smile and am courteous and take a few minutes out of every day asking about them - contrary to popular belief, it isn’t all about me.

When a party of 3 Indians came in, all elderly, over 70 for sure, I took notice of them as one of the trio looked a real character. She had long, grey hair in plaits a bit like the wife of a native American Indian Chief (if you follow me) and was dressed, not in a sari but in jogging trousers (sweat pants) and a t-shirt. Her lower jaw jutted out as if she was practising for a gurning competition but it was the air about her which just said “I don’t give a shit” that I loved. If I get old, I want to be like her. 5 minutes later, a lady walking passed by my table and said hello. She materialised to be the sister of the gurning woman and all her family lived in Leicester and had been doing so for 54 years but came back to India every winter. She said she was ready to go home now. We had a lovely chat about thing various and we wished each other a safe trip home,

The Pain Clinic

Day 5

One more massage, one more breakfast, a final swing in the hammock and float in the pool (which a few minutes later was taken over by about 20 kids) then I checked out. That was a bizarre experience in itself. I was asked to fill in one of their feedback surveys, something I usually refuse to do but I relented. Afterwards, I got the third degree on why I had marked the reception service as “average”. I explained that average wasn’t bad, it wasn’t exceptional, and they shouldn’t feel insulted. Just to amuse myself, I went on to explain that in maths, there are several ways of measuring the average and in something like a questionnaire, the “average” box should be the one in the middle, like the median. Their questionnaire only had 4 responses and “average” was the 2^nd worst option so either the header “average” should be changed or they needed to add another box and keep average in the middle. I giggled to myself at their blank faces.

Good riddance to Ayurveda but it’s not all bad news. My hair and skin look and feel great. Unfortunately I will associate the stench of all those oils with something close to hell if I ever smell them again.

Periyar Tiger Reserve

In Periyar Tiger Reserve

The other day I got up at stupid o’clock in order to queue for tickets for the 07.30 boat trip on the lake of The Periyar Tiger Reserve. The 07.30 is the first trip of the day and is by far, the most popular as there is more chance of seeing the wild animals come down to the water’s edge for a morning drink. However, unlike all the other activities in The Reserve, the boat trip cannot be booked and it’s a first come, first serve scenario which irrupts into total chaos. To get to the boat landing, you have to first pay to get into The Reserve: 300 Rupees if you’re a foreigner and 25 Rupees if you’re Indian. I’m not into political correctness but that is just blatant discrimination. I remember a similar policy in place at The Taj Mahal and I thought then, this is all wrong. It just wouldn’t be allowed in other countries and rightly so. 12 times more expensive for crying out loud!Anyway, the tuk tuk I had booked the previous day didn’t turn up at my hotel at the allotted time of 06.00 and I couldn’t find another one until 06.45. When I arrived at the gate, I was told I wouldn’t get the 07.30 boat so went back to the hotel. This is when you despair at Indian organisation. You see, apart from the road from the gate to the

Cool tree

 Anyway, the tuk tuk I had booked the previous day didn’t turn up at my hotel at the allotted time of 06.00 and I couldn’t find another one until 06.45. When I arrived at the gate, I was told I wouldn’t get the 07.30 boat so went back to the hotel. This is when you despair at Indian organisation. You see, apart from the road from the gate to the boat landing, you cannot go anywhere within The Reserve once you’ve paid to get in, if you want to do another activity, you cannot book in The Reserve or at the gate, it has to be done the previous day. This means that every day, people pay their money to get into The Reserve then can’t get on the boat and all hell breaks out as there’s bugger all to do and you have to wait 3 hours for next boat trip by which time, all the animals will be hiding in the trees. 

This is the reason I tried to leave so early but that tuk tuk driver not turning up was a blessing in disguise as later that morning I did some more research and read reviews on this boat trip and it really is a total nightmare. Not only is it a literal fight to get a ticket which I can well believe having experienced the lack of queuing in India, once on board, it is very noisy (which funnily enough, animals aren’t attracted to) and you are forced to wear a life-jacket for the entire time. [This sounded very strange to me as India is not a health and safety conscious nation but a week later, I found out that in September 2009, one of the boats capsized and 45 people died] I don’t do crowds, queue barging, life jackets or stress so I was glad I missed out.

Instead, I went to the tourist office and booked a day’s excursion, bamboo rafting and trekking. Everywhere you go in Kerala, the published prices seem to be out of date but they don’t go up by a few percent each time, more like 50%. The trip I booked had gone from 1,000 Rupees to 1,500 Rupees and the entrance into The Reserve this time last year was 150 Rupees, now 300 Rupees, slightly more than India’s 11.7% rate of inflation. Still cheap but that’s not the point.

It was explained to me that this day trip was 3 hours rafting (the guides do all the work) and 3 hours trekking. I must have been feeling a bit confident with my back when I booked as I haven’t walked that far for a very long time. The timing of the trip is 08.00 – 17.00 so it would be another early start. I had 2 days to psyche myself up for it and wonder what we spend the other 3 hours doing......

That evening, I met an lovely couple from Angelssey, Brian and Sue who had coincidently taken the same trip that day and they told me about it emphasising it was an easy walk and to take something to protect yourself from the sun as there is no shade on the raft and it’s hot hot hot. As they were definitely into their 60s, I felt a bit better about the trek. The 3 of us went out for dinner the next 2 nights and it was good to have some company and a good laugh. It’s probably what I miss most when I travel around on my own – talking to people who understand my sense of humour, or at least 80% of it. Indians aren’t really known for enjoying the craic.

Another Shitty Day in God’s Own Country

 

Periyar Tiger Reserve

The rafting day was immense fun. There were 7 English and 3 French people in the party. Of the 3 English couples, one was on honeymoon, one was doing a world trip and the other couple were in their 50s, looked younger than me and were barking mad. Superb. We did gel very well together and had lots of laughs but shut up when we were supposed to.

Our rafts

Mummy and baby

It began with the issuance of leech socks (I passed) and signing your life away and then around an hour’s easy walk (but a bit fast for me) on the shore of the lake to the bamboo rafts. I was drugged up nicely on Tramadol but my knees gave me some minor problems. After the walk, it was breakfast time: stale bread, pineapple jam, biscuits, coffee and pukey bananas. I ate a biscuit and a bit of Jeanie’s chaphati and jam for energy purposes. We sat around doing nothing for quite a while before getting onto the rafts where we were handed life jackets, put them on, took them off and sat on them as they made good seat cushions. Off we went in the peaceful and beautiful surroundings of this man-made lake. I tried out my French but at times like this, I find I am suddenly fluent in Dutch et j’oublie ma française. I did however, manage to break the news,  to these Frenchmen, with great glee that Italy had beaten them in “le rugby” a few days earlier. We did see a Mummy elephant and her baby by the water and watched them for a quite a while. The way they use their trunk is fascinating. Who needs thumbs when you have a trunk (and 4 knees)? One of the honeymooners was about as active as me and he certainly enjoyed being paddled around the lovely lake, lying on his back, snoozing away.

Honeymooners

The lake was created when The Mullapperiyar Dam was built in 1895, the old trees in the basin still pop above the water’s surface which gives the place a slightly eerie feel. Apparently the dam needs more than a bit of maintenance but seeing as it’s located in Kerala but also serves the people of Tami Nadu, there’s a bit of an argument about who will pay for it. I can see them fighting about it for some while. The Reserve is 777 km² and the guides say there are 46 tigers but seeing as none of them are tagged, I don’t know how they know this. Our park ranger has seen 2 tigers in 6 years. I think I’ll be safe.

After floating around for about 90 minutes, it was time for another break which involved lunch of rice, raitha and pickle (lemon, not Branston); a siesta and lots of chatting. It was very hot so we sat underneath the trees and some people slept. The peace was lovely with the distant noises of monkeys in the trees, no litter, no horns, just nature and going to the toilet behind trees.

Yours truly

Back on the rafts but we saw no other wildlife apart from the odd bird (or was that me) or 2 and then the difficult bit – the walk. We all started well under the shade of the trees but just as things were getting a bit tough and very hot, we got the signal to stop and shut up. We hit the jackpot, a group of 12 elephants which included the Big Daddy of the territory with his beautiful tusks. We stood and watched for a long time, totally mesmerised. The ranger and guides were very cautious and looked slightly anxious because the big male was there. We were probably 100 – 150 metres away and felt totally out of any danger but you never know.....it really was wonderful seeing these fabulous creatures in the wild, watching their mannerisms and eating, eating and eating. I think that’s all they do all day.

Real, wild elephants

Ironically, my back seemed to be coping OK with the trek but my knees were starting to ache quite badly and everyone was hoping we would be back soon, what an unfit bunch we were except one of the Frenchmen who had a t-shirt on indicating he was a hill runner. He had run from Kumily to the boat landing (4km) and indeed ran back again – idiot. When we arrived back at the starting point, it was a relief alright. I had had a great day but now was ready for a shower and some rest. In fact, when I got back to the hotel, a headache appeared out of the blue and I didn’t feel too good at all. Self diagnosis – sunstroke. I prescribed myself lots of water and bed.

View at the end of the trek

In the morning, I felt absolutely fine, hardly any aches and pains at all. I said goodbye to Periyar Meadows and went to buy my drinking water from the woman down the road whom I liked because she laughed at my jokes.....or maybe she was just laughing at me. I really had a lovely week there.