Mr. Ny picked me up Wednesday morning, we went to get my bike and hit the road. Just me and Mr. Ny for the next 3 days. Mr. Ny is in his early 20s, soft spoken, kind, a little shy, and on the petite side (making me look huge and clumsy). He’s been studying English for 3 months while he works full time as a mechanic for the tour company, and this was his first solo trip with a customer to Preah Vihear. I heard he was a little nervous (love him!!). We stumbled a couple of times with the language, but I couldn’t believe how well he spoke after such a short period of time!! Other things I learned about Mr. Ny: Before he was a mechanic he had been a Buddhist monk for several years. Becoming a monk is a rite of passage for Buddhist boys in Cambodia, but most only serve for several weeks or months, not years. Also, he has tattoos in Sanskrit on his arms, neck and chest (that I could see anyway). He explained they were to keep him safe. I later looked it up online, and it says they are believed to be magic and can ward off evil and hardship. They are done with bamboo or a metal rod by Buddhist monks or magic practitioners.

We drove about 5 hours that day, on dirt roads for a good portion of it. We drove by people carrying all kinds of things on their motos – big piles of grass, whole dead pigs strapped upside down across the back with their legs bouncing in the air, baskets of animals. Some people had started harvesting the rice, and all along the roadsides there were tarps laid out with rice drying on top of them.

We visited Beng Mealea Temple. This one had even more jungle growth left on and around it, and fewer visitors than the temples closer to Angkor Wat. We climbed off the pathways, over fallen temple pieces, and into the empty rooms inside. My pictures of this one didn’t come out that impressive, so unfortunately no photos to share!

We drove up to our hotel just outside of Koh Ker as the sun was setting. Driving on my own moto all day was awesome, but I was sunburned, needed a shower, and my butt was killing me.
The hotel had a kitchen, but no menu. I ordered what sounded like a chicken stir-fry type thing. Someone went out to buy the chicken, and dinner was served about 2 hours later. They basically chopped up the whole chicken (bones and all) into bite sized pieces, and flash fried it up with ginger and lemongrass (I think). I struggled trying to get the chicken off the bone on my plate, until I saw Mr. Ny just pop in a mouthful and spit out the bones. I struggled with that too. Mostly what I ate was mango and rice. After dinner and a Jackie Chan movie, I went to bed exhausted.

In the morning we ate breakfast, and I played with this thing for a bit. I don’t know what it is, but the family that owns the hotel had caught it, and were keeping it as a pet.

We spent a couple hours exploring Koh Ker. There was literally NO ONE there when we got there – not even the guys manning the ticket booth. The Khmer Rouge mined the area pretty heavily, and you see signs at every temple about the partner country that helped sponsor de-mining. According to the Lonely Planet says “1,382 mines, and 1,447,212 pieces of exploded and unexploded ordnance were removed”.

From Koh Ker we drove about another 5 hours, stopping to eat our packed lunch literally on the shoulder of road. I made a mental note for future ordering – pork or deer does not come with bone pieces. As we finished our meal I noticed Mr. Ny had set aside one of the to-go containers with a couple pieces of meat and some rice. He explained that there were a lot of ghosts in the area, and he was leaving it for them. I wished I could have asked him more – damn the language barrier!

We overnighted in Sra Em, watched some more Jackie Chan at breakfast, and then left for Preah Vihear. Prasat Preah Vihear is a mountain temple on the border of Thailand and Cambodia, and ownership has been a source of debate between the two since at least the early 1900s. There was military conflict on and off from 2008-2011, making it periodically off limits to tourists. That coupled with the fact that the area was a Khmer Rouge strong hold until 1998, was heavily mined and wasn’t easily accessible by road meant that a lot of tourists didn’t make it out there.

We drove our motos to the foot of the mountain, and paid guys with more powerful motos to take us up the rest of the way. There were soldiers everywhere, and Mr. Ny distributed two cartons of cigarettes to them as we walked toward the entrance to the temple. After he ran out one soldier came up, shrugged and said then he’d accept candy instead. Aside from the soldiers, there were only a handful of other tourists. Mr. Ny and I walked around, and he tried to tell me a little bit about the area. The temples were beautiful of course, but what really made them spectacular was the setting. You feel high above the rest of the world, and even the sky looked naturally photoshopped.

We had barely started when were stopped by tourist police who told Mr Ny that he couldn’t walk with me since he wasn’t an official guide, so I continued on my own. After not too long Mr. Ny popped back up again! He had mentioned to the tourist officer that I had lived in Siem Reap for a year and spoke Khmer well. Ahh – since that was the case the officer let him come back and join me discreetly. Clever Mr. Ny!

We hit a couple of downpours during the drive. Not funny driving in rainstorms. From the road.

We had gotten delayed with rain, and it was dark before we got near Siem Reap. Driving in the rain is no fun. Driving in the dark on a dirt road with no street lights, and no sunglasses to protect my eyes from dirt and bugs is miserable. We pulled over at a roadside stand owned by a family Mr. Ny knew, dropped off my bike, and he drove the rest of the way to my hostel.

As we said our goodbyes Mr. Ny gave me a giant genuine hug. He apologized for his English (no, no!!!), and gave me a Khmer/English phrasebook with his email address. I felt really sad!! Mr. Ny quietly won my heart. I was going to miss him!

Our bus picked us up early Thursday morning for Siem Reap, and we gave up most of the day to travel and being lazy. The next morning we started with the Angkor Wat complex, and visited the temples in the “small circuit”. It’s mid-November, so it’s supposed to be the cooler season – but it was roasting! You have to dress modestly for the temples (short sleeves and knee lengths bottoms. Same with most of Cambodia outside of the major tourist areas). We were drenched in sweat walking around and climbing the steep, shallow-stepped staircases in the temples. The sun was so strong by mid-day it bleached out most of my pictures. I can only imagine what the hot season is like!!

The temples really were incredible, but after a while they start to blend together. There are people at every temple entrance trying to sell things. Women shouting “Water lady?” “Hat?” There are kids as well, and they are impossible to dodge. They run out with postcards and bracelets, counting them out “one, two, three….”, or listing the locations on the postcards as they follow you around.

In hindsight I wish we had gotten a tour guide. You can appreciate how much effort must have gone into building these – but I think we missed a lot about what the carvings meant, how the temples were used, and why they were abandoned. You can research all that on your own – but really, who has the patience? The ones that stuck out to me – Angkor Wat of course. Too bad there was a giant scaffolding over a big portion of the entrance.

Ta Prohm – ancient trees that had grown into the temples over time. I can’t imagine it’s possible to separate the two without damaging the structures.

Bayon – faces carved into every side of the towers on the top level.

The next day we took a break from temples, and walked around Siem Reap. We went for massages at Lemon Grass, which were pretty stellar (although my heart still belongs to Lakshmi in Varkala). We discovered the small cafe chain The Blue Pumpkin – tasty snacks, ice cream, and AC. Did a little shopping, but no buying. Walked Pub Street. As the sun sets all the street kids start to come out and beg. You know you should never give money to street kids anywhere, but here they make make it even more difficult to say no. A young girl will walk up carrying a baby, looking desperate, and saying “I don’t want money. Milk for baby.” They are AGGRESSIVE, and act appalled that you could be so heartless if you say no. Then they return the milk to the local store for cash. I had been warned – but it didn’t make it any easier.

Sunday – back at the temples. Everything really was a blur at this point. The only one I can remember the name of was Preah Khan.

We went to dinner just off Pub Street that night, and discovered the alleyways on either side of it. They were full of cool shops and restaurants – much nicer than on the main streets. We tried to find some night life, without much luck. X bar looked promising (had a tattoo parlor inside and a half pipe on the roof), but there weren’t enough people for it to really get going.

The following day we did some more shopping. I stopped for a fish pedicure. It was very weird. Kind of like torture, but also funny.

Tuesday Sarah left for her flight back to Thailand, and I was picked up for my Moto tour. How could I forget to mention the motos?!?!?! They fall somewhere in between a bicycle and a dirtbike, and are the mode of transportation for the average Cambodian. They’ll pile a family of 4 or more onto one. I found a place that does moto tours out of Siem Reap, which sounded great to me. I was eyeing a 3 day trip with a guide into the North, but since I’d never driven one before I thought I should try it out with a half day tour first. My guide Mr Ny picked me up at the hostel, and drove me out of the city to my own personal moto. After a quick lesson on how to start, and what the different gears were – we were off. It was super easy to ride, and so much fun to get into the country a little more. We drove on dirt roads by rice fields, and little houses on stilts. You don’t have to get too far out of the cities for things to change completely. In Phnom Penh and Siem Reap things are pretty modern with ATMs, restaurants, massage parlors, and shops everywhere. When you get out in the country it’s nothing but fields, and small houses built up on stilts. And gas stops. We kept driving by these stands with bottles filled with liquid. I thought it was the rice wine I had read about, but there were so many of them I figured either the country was full of alcoholics, or I must be wrong. It was gas.

That day while driving my moto I got the thumbs up from a teenage boy. I felt very cool. Settled! I would leave the next day for a 3 day trip north east to Preah Vihear!

I forgot to mention…. as we walked back to our tuk-tuk driver, shell shocked from visiting The Killing Fields, we got a scolding. We had agreed to meet at 12:30, but time got away from us, and by the time we got back to him it was 1:45. He was piiiiisssssed. I did understand his annoyance to an extent, but we had hired him for half a day – so why did he care where we chose to spend it? We agreed to pay extra if we ran over our time, and that seemed to appease him. Ten minutes later he was all smiles and jokey again. Sarah and I were still feeling awkward. What the…? I thought Cambodians didn’t like showing anger?

After S-21 we felt the need to lighten it up a bit, and went took a tuk-tuk to the riverfront for dinner. We walked up and down the street checking out all the restaurants, and had many meaningful interactions with locals. From one guy “Hey, want sommmmme-thing……”? If we had any doubts about what he meant, another friendly man made it very clear, and just said “Weed?” Finally we settled on a place on the roof of a building. The food was very good, view was great, and price was right.

After dinner we wandered around some more, and came across this snack stand on the side of the road. Look closely – there’s fried tarantula top right, snake on a stick second from bottom left, large meal-worm looking things center row second from the left.

We stopped by the Foreign Correspondents Club to have a drink on the roof. To be honest – I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s nice, but not that special.

The next morning I woke up bright and early. Election day!! I deposited myself in front of the big screen TV on the roof at 8 am, and didn’t move until after Obama’s acceptance speech. By that time it was early afternoon in Phnom Penh, and I hadn’t left my hostel. Sorry Sarah!!

We did a some online research, and jumped in a tuk-tuk bound for the old market. We had read about a couple of other markets good for shopping, but we were more interested in people watching. The old market sounded less touristy, and it definitely was. It is basically a large dimly lit maze of stalls covered by tarps and metal sheeting. There were fruit stands at the entrance, and inside almost everything you can imagine, but nothing you would want to buy. There was gold jewelry, synthetic weaves displayed in front of hair salons, fancy fabrics, hardware stores, extremely padded underwear and bras, candy colored plastic shoes, restaurants, clothes, and school supplies.

There is a large open air section outside for food. I was dying to try something but didn’t know where to start!! There were all kinds of fresh veggies, and every kind of meat and seafood (with quite a bit the borders of either classification). I was mesmerized by bucket of live snakes sitting alongside some ducks and jerky.

From there we went to explore the shops on 178th street, and stopped at the cafe above the Daughter’s of Cambodia store for a snack. In Phnom Penh and Siem Reap there are several options to spend your money with a conscience (and at a premium). There are massage parlors staffed by the blind, beauty salons that are vocational training places for at risk women, shops selling products made by land-mine victims etc. Daughter’s of Cambodia’s mission is to offer an alternative to women and men working in the sex industry – offering training, employment, and medical and psychological care. They employ people making products and staffing their shop, cafe, and spa. The food and products tend to be nicer in these types of places, and with all the exploitation that goes on around here, I am happy to spend a little more at these places.

We had some time to kill before a show that evening, so we went for a walk by the Royal Palace around the corner. The palace had been closed to tourists since King Sihanouk’s death in October, but people have been gathering outside daily to pay their respects. The perimeter of the building was draped in lights, and there was a giant portrait of the King over the entrance. Monks mixed with people lighting candles and praying, and street vendors hovered nearby selling flowers, incense, and souvenirs.

We spent a half hour or so wandering, and then went back to see our show. It was presented through Cambodian Living Arts – an organization that is working to revive traditional Cambodian art forms. Most of the masters of these arts were killed by the Khmer Rouge, and their knowledge was lost with them (along with a chunk of Cambodian culture). The CLA was originally started to engage some of the surviving masters to train a new generation of performers, and enable both to earn a living. Now 14 years in, their mission has shifted to spreading awareness of these arts to the local and international community, and “facilitate a cultural renaissance” in Cambodia.

The show we were seeing was called The Passage of Life. It presented scenes of major life events within a family (birth, marriage, illness, death), and the traditional rituals and music that are performed at those events. It was a great introduction to Cambodian culture and Buddhism – the focus on family, custom, respect, and superstition. In addition to music and songs, the scenes involved prayer to dead ancestors, offerings of food, and a traditional “magic” doctor who spit. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of that reflected tradition vs. how much the average Cambodian still practices today?

After 3 days in Phnom Penh I felt ready to leave. There was more to do: the Silver Pagoda, a river cruise, National Museum of Cambodia, more markets etc – but I was saving my sight seeing energy for Angkor Wat.

I landed in Phnom Penh after an overnight flight exhausted. I keep doing these overnight flights because they’re cheap – but they’re miserable!! I took a tuk-tuk to the hostel I booked, and was surprised by how clean and westernized the city was. (Maybe it was because I was coming from India?) I stayed awake as long as I could, got pampered at a fancy salon next door, and then admitted defeat and took a nap. The hostel was very upscale as far as hostels go, and I had a “superior” private room that looked like it had been renovated recently with AC for $25. Not much converting currency here – they use US dollars for everything over $1. Any change under a dollar they give you Cambodian Riel, so you end up walking around with a jumble of Riel and US dollars at all times.

After my nap I went downstairs for dinner and while I was eating started talking to the girl next to me – Sarah. She had just arrived as well. She had been living and teaching in Thailand for 6 months, and needed to make a visa run out of the country so she headed to Cambodia for a week. We decided to meet for breakfast, and do some sight seeing.

Over breakfast the next day Sarah mentioned she just booked a private room for the next couple of nights since the dorms were fully booked. Fascinating – I also have a private room…. We agreed to share my room, and split the cost. AC accommodation down to $12.50 a night! More conversation – we were both headed to Siem Reap next, and the hostel just happened to have another location in Siem Reap. We booked bus tickets, and reserved a room to share in Siem Reap as well. While I was at it I left my passport with the hostel to send off for my Vietnam visa. Productive morning!

With that all sorted out, we got in a tuk-tuk to go visit the Choeung Ek Genocidal Center – one of over 300 killing fields of the Khmer Rouge. I had read about what had happened in Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge before coming, and knew it would be a heavy day, but felt it was almost a responsibility as a visitor to Cambodia. I won’t launch into a history lesson (there are much better resources for that) – but I will share some of what the tour was like. We were given a map and audio guide to listen to as we walked around the area, and were told in graphic detail about what took place at this site. There is a tall memorial building that you walk by as you enter and leave with the bones of the people executed here – sorted by type with different levels for skulls, and other large bones. An impactful introduction to the tour, and poignant last stop as you leave.

From the audio guide we heard about what would happen to people as they were brought in by the truck load. How they arrived almost starved and half dead already. How they were unloaded from the trucks, processed, and lined up in front of ditches to be executed, with Khmer Rouge propaganda blasting on loud speakers so people in the surrounding areas couldn’t hear what was going on. How they would poured DDT on the corpses in the open ditches to masque the smell. How there are mass graves that have been left undisturbed, and after rains new pieces of bones and bits of clothing continue to surface above ground. They are collected periodically, and left by a glass box that holds the clothing of victims previously found there.

There was one mass grave full of women and children. The Khmer Rouge policy was to kill the entire family of a “criminal”, so no relatives would be left to seek revenge. Next to this grave there was a tree with a bunch of bracelets visitors had left hanging off it. The audio guide explained that guards would swing the children by their ankles and smash their heads against the tree to kill them. A Khmer Rouge slogan – “Better to kill an innocent by mistake than to spare an enemy by mistake”.

There were first person accounts of people who had been there, and at it’s partner S-21 – a detention/interrogation/torture center. The one that sticks out most to me was from a guy who had been been arrested and imprisoned as a very young teen. He told how while in prison criminals were forced to confess to wrong doing daily, and if they didn’t have anything real to confess to they had to make something up, or be killed. One night the boy couldn’t come up with any crimes to confess to. A fellow prisoner intervened, questioning the guards as to why the boy was there, saying that he was too young and had no idea what was going on. Another KR slogan “He who protests is an enemy. He who opposes is a corpse”. The fellow prisoner who intervened was executed, and surprisingly the boy was actually released. The narrator went on to say that he didn’t understand until he was much older why he was released, and that the man had stepped in knowing it would mean his own death. He went on to shamefully admit that he couldn’t remember the man’s name.

I couldn’t imagine living through that, and carrying the weight of it around with me for the rest of my life. For some reason while I listened to that particular story, I began to understand that the country is full of individual stories just like that – a mess of personal loss, torture, shame and horror. 25+% of the population was either killed, or died of disease, overwork and starvation. Everyone over the age of 38 (not much older than me) is old enough to have some memory of it, and everyone under the age of 38 lives in the shadow of it. The educated people were killed – doctors, scientists, monks, teachers, artists. No religion, no studies, no culture were tolerated. Foreigners? Killed. People turned against each other to survive, and children became executioners. By their own policy/precedent the Angkar should have killed themselves – they were college educated, and several had foreign ancestors. I walked around expressionless and numb, with tears streaming down my face.

From there we went to S-21. I think by now you get the picture, so I won’t go on.

I’m having a hard time following this up with stories about light hearted exploring, so I will close this post here.

I arrived at the government bus station in Kottayam a couple of hours before the bus to Munnar was scheduled to leave. Fortunate, because I was starved! I got a Chai, and some Indian junk food (I don’t know what it was exactly, but it was fried). That out of the way, I started asking around to find out how to tell which was the bus to Munnar, since half the buses were signed in
Malayalam (I think). Unlike Rajasthan where the official language is Hindi, in Kerala it’s Malayalam. This was the first time since I’d been in Kerala that I couldn’t navigate signs in English. It made me look forward to Munnar!

After a while a guy who worked for the bus company came over, and escorted me to the right bus. I tried for a window seat, but all the empty seats had bags sitting on top of them. Apparently an unattended bag left on the seat is code for “this seat is taken”. Unlike New York where it would be cause for you to notify the authorities of possible terrorist activity….. So I settled into a seat one over from the window for the 4 1/2 hour bus ride inland.

Munnar is close to the border of Tamil Nadu (the neighboring state), and Kerala. It is known for tea plantations, and surreal mountainous scenery. It sounded like a nice balance to the more touristy areas in Varkala and Alleppey, so I decided to add it to the itinerary. Plus it was supposed to be about 10 degrees celsius cooler!

By the time I arrived it was dark, so it was hard to get a feel for the area. I had booked a guest house a little ways out of town, and arranged for the bus to drop me off on the side of the road in front of a neighboring resort. And by “arranged” I mean, I just kept saying the name of the resort over and over again to the bus guy until he dropped me off. After about 5 minutes in the dark, on the side of the road, I wondered if that was the right decision. Just as I was starting to worry, the guy from the guest house came to pick me up in a rickshaw, and drove the pot-holed dirt road back to the guest house. I checked in, and settled into my room. I had chosen this place because it was inexpensive and the setting was supposed to be gorgeous, but judging by the room itself things were not looking good. It’s chilly here, and there is so much moisture in the air that everything felt slightly damp. The room was clean, and smelled of disinfectant, but you couldn’t get away from the mildew. It was coming through the paint on the walls in places, and was in the pillows. The Lonely Planet really didn’t do right by me with this recommendation.

I listened to it rain all night, and it sounded like it wasn’t going to let up. The only thing to do around here is hike, and in the rain that was out. As I fell asleep I made my plan for the next day – new accommodation, and find a driver to take me sight seeing. But then I walked out the next morning to check on breakfast, and looked onto this.

Whoah. I knew the area would be scenic, but didn’t anticipate this. I was excited to go out and explore. Maybe I would stay a second night after all…..

My driver for the day picked me up, and we drove through the hills and mountains. The tea plantations were absolutely everywhere, and were incredible to see. Lush, lush green, with lines like cracks running through the plants.

Ladies were out there in the rain, wearing plastic, and cutting the tea leaves with clippers that had containers attached to catch the leaves. When the containers were full they would dump them into bags, and when the bags were full they would carry them on their heads to where they needed to be dropped off.

We headed toward Top Station which is a view point over looking the Western Ghat mountains. It was so foggy at times you could barely see right in front of you on the road.

Along the way we got lucky and spotted a wild elephant.

This one haunted me – a tree covered in bees nests and mist.

In the early evening I went to Kathakali performance (Keralan dance/drama). It has nothing to do with Indian dance as I know it. All of the actors were men, and they wear elaborate costumes and make-up. The actors don’t speak (aside from a shriek every now and then), and communicate only through facial movements (eyes, nose, chin, nostrils), hand gestures and dance. There was a guy singing, and some very “unusually” pitched instruments. The rhythm and melody is totally unlike western music. The performance I saw was modified for people with short attention spans, and finished in about an hour. Traditional Kathakali performances are supposed to start in the evening, and last until morning!

The next day I took the bus to Fort Cochin, and walked around looking for a room. Every rickshaw driver and his brother offered to “help” (compensated with a commission from the guest house). One even turned around down the street and came back to ask again – just in case I’d changed my mind. After stopping at about 6 guest houses I settled on one. The price for the quality of the room was great! AC and WIFI. I couldn’t believe my luck!! After I checked in I looked online, and couldn’t find any sign of my guest house. The website on their card didn’t exist, there was nothing on trip advisor and absolutely no reviews anywhere. Strange. The two young guys running it were some of the most respectful I had met in India though. I didn’t ask questions….

I spent most of the next couple of days researching for the next part of my trip. I was leaving for Cambodia in 2 days, and would be flying into Phnom Penh, but had no hotel booked, and no idea where or when I would go from there. After hours and hours online, I came up with a rough itinerary.

My last day in India I finally explored Fort Cochin. There really isn’t a lot to see there, so one day was plenty of time. I walked down to the dock, and watched some of the boats throw out and pull in their fishing nets. They sell seafood just in front of the boats where you can take your pick, and then send it off to a nearby restaurant to be cooked. I didn’t see them catch much in the nets, so I was a little suspicious of where the seafood actually came from. I picked some prawn and squid. As I walked with my catch to the restaurant I asked the guy if they came off the boats. “No, these are caught further out so they came off other big boats”. Mmm hmmm….

I visited “Jew Town” (not much effort put into creative naming there), and walked through the synagogue. You aren’t allowed to take pictures inside, but it was old (built in 1568), small and had several chandeliers crammed in.

I finished my one day of Fort Cochin sight seeing early, and called a rickshaw driver I had met earlier in the day to take me to the airport. He chatted me up the whole way to the airport, and I really came to like him! I heard his whole story – growing up, parents, brothers, love life. He was 25, and was well into marriage-able age. He told me about how his mother kept trying to get him to meet with a marriage mediator to meet good wife material, but he was trying to delay. He didn’t expect to have a “love” marriage, but wasn’t yet ready for an arranged one either. This guy was an open book! He also told me how he saw me walking around on my first day in Fort Cochin – “Do you remember”? No. “I asked you if you needed help finding a room? And then I drove down the street, turned around and came back?” Hahah!! Yes, I remembered!!!

Not long into the ride he asked me if I wanted to drive his rickshaw. No thanks, I’d had enough of India traffic! But he was determined and pulled off into a quiet rode, and had me drive. Okay, so I sat next to him and steered/accelerated, while he had his foot ready on the brake. By far my favorite rickshaw driver in all of India.

It’s funny looking back to my month in India. It took me 3 weeks to get comfortable, and gain confidence in my ability to get around on my own. There are things that drove me crazy, followed by amazing experiences that would make me forget. It’s noisy, colorful, boisterous, dirty, beautiful, crowded, argumentative, and then unexpectedly friendly. There’s obscene wealth sitting next to extreme poverty – and nobody seems to notice. It’s not easy, and I don’t think I could live here. But I’ve ended on a high note, and that’s all I could ask for!

The next 12 days I would be exploring Kerala. Kerala is a state in the South West of India, and is known as the least corrupt, and healthiest state in the country. They are considerably better off than other Indian states with the highest life expectancy (74 years vs. total India at 65), and highest literacy rates (94% vs. total India at 74%).

I landed at the airport at Trivandrum, and took a taxi to where I was staying in the North Beach area of Varkala. The crappy weather must have followed me from Goa, because it was steamy and overcast when I arrived. I checked into my hotel, dropped off my things, and went to explore the area. My hotel room was nice, but over budget. The plan was to splurge the first night, and shop around for a room for the following nights once I got there.

I walked down to the cliff overlooking the beach, and down the main strip that is lined with restaurants, shops, ayurvedic massage, and yoga spots. There are no cars allowed on the path so it is just people, scooters and rickshaws. Everything about this place just felt fresher to me than Goa. The shops were less dingy, the air felt lighter…. it’s hard to put my finger on why. It was clearly geared toward western tourists with everything in English, and the radios playing classic rock and Coldplay. Maybe because there isn’t much in the way of nightlife, it doesn’t have the kind of “sceney” feeling some big beach towns can have. All in all a nice place to sit on the beach, and do nothing for a couple of days!

I spent the afternoon walking around hunting for a room with no luck. I looked at about 10 places, but didn’t love any of the ones in my budget. Eventually I stopped at a store to get water, and happened to overhear a girl with an American accent at the checkout. I started talking to her and we swapped info – where she was from (St. Louis), when she got here (a couple of hours before), how long she was traveling for (over a year). After blocking the entrance to the store for too long while talking, Nicole and I went for a drink, which led to dinner. It felt good to have someone doing a similar trip to relate to – but aside from that she was genuinely cool and interesting. I ended up not finding a room that afternoon, but was relieved to have met another friend after my dry spell!

The next morning I woke up and went for breakfast on the cliff. While I was eating I asked the owner if he could recommend a guest house, and he gave me a couple to check out. Afterwards I went to visit both, and ended up going for the slightly more expensive one with AC. It wasn’t a fancy home base, but it was very clean, and had a little balcony. I may have also been swayed by the welcome gifts on the bed (mints, mosquito cream and scented soap).

There isn’t much to do here but lay on the beach, read, get ayurvedic treatments, and do yoga – so with my room situation settled, that’s basically how I spent the next 4 days. I went for a massage at “Lakshmi’s” based on the recommendation of some lady as she drove off in rickshaw. Lakshmi’s place wasn’t much – a small dark room in a building behind a restaurant. One table, a curtain and a fan. An hour and a half massage for $20. I didn’t have high expectations. To describe it as “life changing” would be a bit dramatic, but it was close! As she worked her way through my muscles I felt like I was melting and purring at the same time. I became a Lakshmi devotee, went back for more in the following days, and recommended her to whoever would listen.

The other thing I wanted to try in Varkala was yoga, so I asked Lakshmi for a recommendation, and she sent me next door to Sunil. I have tried yoga a couple of times before, and have never really gotten into it – but figured I should give it another try while I’m here. I joined that evening’s class on the roof of a building overlooking the ocean. It was just me and one other girl – which was perfect since I’m a total beginner. I followed along clumsily through the positions and breathing. It was peaceful on the roof, with the ocean breeze cooling me down. Sunil finished the class with a final relaxation exercise. He spoke in his melodic accent as we layed there with our eyes closed. “You’re toes are relaxing, you’re toes are completely relaxed”. Then worked his way up the body parts. “You’re ankles are relaxing. You’re ankles are completely relaxed”. This was nice. But then in between he would chant “Ommmmmm”, which made me flash back to the meditation meetings my grandmother would bring me to when I was little. I would sit in a circle with all of the adults, eyes closed “Huuuuu”ing. They believed you could have out of body experiences through meditation. At the age of 7 or 8 this was unbelievably boring, so I would sit in the circle, and peak through slits in my eyelids periodically, while brainstorming on the lies I would tell about the out of body experience I just had. Bringing it back to yoga class – as Sunil “Ommm”ed, I un-relaxed, my brain snapped to attention, and I had an overwhelming urge to peak through my eyelids. I got over it, and by the end I managed to “completely relax” after all. Enough so that I went to another class while I was in Varkala. I don’t think I’m a yoga convert, but I can appreciate it.

The next couple of days I explored the beaches, hung out with Nicole a couple of times, and indulged in my yoga and massage. Everything moved slowly, with almost no schedule. Which is good, because things frequently stop working for a while. Power, wi-fi, water. The best solution seems to be to go away and try again later.

After 5 days in Varkala I was ready to move on, and caught the train to Alleppey.

The main reason to visit Alleppey is to explore the backwaters (a series of canals and lakes that wind through a large stretch of Kerala). There are villages and towns throughout the backwaters, and peoples daily lives revolve around them. Their homes are built on the canals, it’s where they bathe, wash dishes, and fish; they irrigate crops from the waterways, and they often travel from place to place by ferry or canoe. There is a whole industry built around houseboat rentals and tours of the canals. Originally I was hoping to stay in a houseboat for a night, but I ruled it out after reading about how much pollution and damage the industry was causing, and instead booked a homestay in Kuttanad (in the heart of the backwaters).

Getting off the train I met a couple of Western girls – Jenna from Germany, and Natalie from England. They met in an ashram, had spent the last couple of days in Varkala, and were hoping to rent a houseboat for the night out of Alleppey (ideally an eco-friendly one) before going their separate ways. Perfect! I asked if I could join up with them, and cancelled my homestay. A great morning with the train ride, and random meeting that changed my plans all around. My feelings about traveling in India changes by the hour – but I am loving India right now!!

From the train we took a rickshaw to the docks and asked around about houseboats. I watched our bags while the girls checked out our boat options. There wasn’t a “green” houseboat to be found, and the boats were expensive!! Finally they were able to negotiate the cost down on one, but we couldn’t leave until the next day. The rickshaw driver and boat salesmen tried to hustle us into a room, but we ended up going to a place I had gotten as a back up recommendation from my last hotel. Very basic, but for under $5 US each a night it helped offset our houseboat splurge. The whole process of bargaining prices, and avoiding scams is exhausting. (Cranky and annoyed with India right now.)

The next day we left to catch our boat, and stopped on the way for beer. The sale of alcohol in India is strictly controlled, so you can’t buy it in a lot of places. Our rickshaw driver drove up to a building, said “small door”, and pointed to a sketchy looking unmarked open door next to a convenience store. 5 minutes later Jenna walked out with 6 Kingfishers, and we were on our way.

A couple of pics from the drive that brought up things I meant to mention:
– Communist political parties are widely supported throughout Kerala, and they have been electing communist officials government off and on since the 50s. You can see graffiti and communist flags around.

– Kerala has a crazy mix of religions. Hinduism, Christianity, Islam. You’ll walk by a store with Ganesh and Jesus paintings, and then pass a woman wearing a headscarf.

We met our boat hustler at the Finishing Point docks, and boarded our boat. It had mysteriously been switched from the one Natalie was shown the day before, but it was comparable so we let it go. We settled in, pulled out of the docks, and spent the rest of the day eating and lazing through the backwaters. The food was some of the best I’ve had in India – but spicy!! (Loving India again!)

The next morning I was the first up (shocking), and sat for a while on the front of the boat while the other girls slept. The cook was the only other one up, and he quietly straightened up and prepped for our ride back to Alleppey. As I sat there lost in thought, I heard a splash to my left. I looked over. The cook had tossed the bag of garbage we carefully set aside into the river. I heard another splash – an empty water bottle. I felt ashamed knowing that I was contributing to the pollution of the canals. I looked to the right at the houseboat moored next to us as it splurged out dirty water from a pipe. Just a little further to the right – a naked kid swimming, and his mother washing dishes. I’m a guilty, guilty polluter. (India – why can’t you throw the garbage in the garbage can?)

After we got back to the docks, Jenna, Natalie and I took the public ferry for a 2 hour ride to Kottayam. The view of the canals was mostly the same as from the houseboat, but the company and activity on the boat was completely different. Stopping every 15 minutes, people got on and off going from one town to the next, some carrying huge sacks of rice and vegetables, some just sleeping through their commute. Note how subtle we are in trying to get a picture of the back of the boat….

From Kottayam we said our goodbyes, and I took a rickshaw to the bus station. I was headed to Munnar in the mountains…..