Kerala for Christmas

Travelling from Gokarna to Fort Kochi in time for Christmas, I reminisce on the usual 23^rd December struggle home for Christmas. Weary after too many Christmas parties and thoroughly bored of the tedious repetitive conversations acted out at the photocopier about colleagues' Christmas plans. I am usually negotiating right now the pandemonium of Euston Station and the journey to the icy North; this year replaced with the spicy cacophony of the Trivandrum Christmas Express to the steamy South.

Our Christmas journey begins with departure from the paradisical Om Beach; a wonderful unexploited hideaway in our cocohut amongst the palms. The time to leave is nigh as we have become too firmly fixed into the community of the Sangam cocohuts, if we stay much longer we will be babysitting for the blonde Swiss German boys and intervening in their father's overly strict fathering. Or we would end up not containing our cynicism with the preaching of alternative lifestyles by hippies bound for the Rainbow Gathering on Paradise Beach and their futile demonstrations against natural disasters (speed boats). So...departure.

 We catch the 9.20 Trivandrum Express, travelling sleeper class (third best out of five, two better than jungle class). Joining a 50 hour express train from Gujarat at hour 34 the now resident families in our carriage are in another zone. Unsurprisingly they are not over welcoming as we cram in. After two months travelling the trains I feel more relaxed now with the comical systems of passengers flowing in and out. My earlier irritation at intrusion into my personal “purchased” zone has gone and I behave as everyone else, my perception changing. A flux of passengers moving about the train, seat sharing, one gets up and another quickly slips into the space. A general relaxed acceptance that trains are overcrowded, that India is overcrowded and that if you suddenly want to lie down forcing five people into the next berth then everyone will adapt but if you go to the toilet they shift back. One passenger phones his daughter then thrusts the phone to Christopher for a three way translation/ interrogation session.

We chug through the lush state of Karnataka and into tropical Kerala passing over wide estuaries pouring water from the Ghats of Central India into the Arabian Sea. Simple fishing boats that have worked these waters for hundreds of years are dwarfed by the dramatic water scapes trimmed by steamy jungle. Hot, hot, hot. In the middle of the day there is a palpable hot energy running through the train. Gujarati women in yellow saris, their bare feet taking the air from the window, sprawl gossiping on sacks of grain. I retire to a free upper berth for a semi sweaty sleep accompanied by calls of biryani and a tambourine.

Eating my biryani, cheap bland train stodge, I watch the sun sets over dreamy backwaters, a land crowded with tall palms with houses hidden inside. From the train the towns we pass don't have the frenetic energy of the towns in the North. Or is the three weeks on the beach which have relieved the pressure? Let's see....

Fort Kochi for Christmas - an old colonial city - Portuguese, Dutch and British buildings as well as the Chinese influence who left their ingenious fishing nets in the port.  Kochi is the first Indian city which I can say is lovely and calm...very refreshing.

Christmas was spent phlittering round the churches, ajurvedic massages, kathakali theatre and cooking curry for Christmas dinner with our host Gigi and her daughters. 

Christmas Dinner

Boxing Day and onto the hill station of Munnar, a horrible town full of rich Indians escaping the hot cities but beautiful surroundings.  Spoiled of course by the rubbish and noisy traffic... we roamed the hills and tea plantations and met the local kids who taught me a song and leapt into my arms.

An interesting Keralan christmas scene - this family invited us in for coffee with cardamom and a perusal of the family albums before a photo shoot with santa and a jungle nativity scene.

Moving On...