Pilgrimage to the sea - Kerala part 2

From our most excellent lunch in Trivandrum, we headed South into the state of Tamil Nadu - to experience the town of Kanyakumari, the southern-most tip of India, and the place where the three seas meet: The Bay of Bengal, the Arabian Sea, and the Indian Ocean.  Apparently you can actually see where they meet - the waters are slightly different colours.  I didn't find this out until afterward, so I neglected to look for it, but I could unquestionably feel the convergence.  The air in the city is charged, as if there is a storm coming in off the water. It's incredible.  It's also the one place in India where you can watch the sun rise and set from the same basic vantage point.

The late departure of our train meant that we arrived in the dark, but we wandered through the village anyway, and found a beautiful place in front of the temple to look out at the water.  I am continuously awed by the power of water - especially the ocean, and the energy there was immense.  I think I could have quite happily spent the night sleeping (or just being) on the beach.  I am certain that I could have spent a week or more there and never gotten tired of being in that energy.

We missed the sunset but we set our alarms and got up for the sunrise the next morning.  As most of you know, that's a real sign of devotion for me to get up that early (and two days in a row, with jet lag!)  We walked down to the beach and down the very long pike of huge rocks, and planted ourselves near the tip to watch the sun come up.  When we looked back toward shore we could see the hundreds of people that had come down to various places along the shore, in front of the temple . . . anywhere they could get a water-front view, to watch the sun rise.  Just by coming, and watching the sunrise, we had joined a sacred ritual of pilgrimage. 

It's interesting to me to reflect on that experience and recognize it as pilgrimage - because certainly that wasn't the conscious intent that either of us had going in.  I can't say what my friend's experience was, but I know that the word fits for me.  I have always been drawn to the water, and I consistently return to it for healing, for reflection, for rejuvenation.  After my first difficult month in India, and my race home for the holidays, I recognize that I was called to this powerful convergence of great waters to connect back into source before re-embarking on my journey, both personal and professional, in India for the coming months. 


We continued that pilgrimage from the pike, along the shore, over to the temple . . . where we followed a 'guide' through, offering prayers, getting anointed with oils and ashes, and then ultimately down to the beach behind the temple where we joined the many bathers - dipping themselves in the sacred ocean.  Fully clothed, of course, because we were female.  Had we been men, we could have gone in our underwear - but as women, everything must stay covered . . . . so we did.  I am eternally grateful to Sabrina who led the way, as we were both watching the bathers with envy and it was she that announced that she could no longer just watch, she had to go in.  I was wearing completely impractical clothes for the experience and decided to just dip my toes in ... but the call of the water was stronger than the hold of practicality.  The day was hot, and it was an experience not to be missed. 

Afterward we both dripped our way back to the hotel for breakfast and put our clothes in a bag for our train ride North. 

PS: my pants took 2 days to dry....and it was totally worth it!

Heading South

When I returned to India in January, the first thing in my loosely held plan was a trip to Kerala with an old school friend, who happened to be in India for a month.  Two girls, headed for the beach . . . sort of.  Being more of the intellectual hippy persuasion than the wide-eyed, bring-on-the-party, beach bunny persuasion, we decided on Kerala over Goa, because although both have beautiful beaches, Kerala has far more to see and remains somewhat less commercialized. Part of the appeal of Kerala, in fact, was its famous backwaters, lovely rides down old canal-like waterways, and witnessing the ancient ritual dancing that is purported to be seen everywhere. (I do sometimes wonder who writes the travel guides - as the gap between reality and the books is often . . . .well . . . significant). 

Our trip started with the plane ride from Delhi - we discovered mid-flight that we had a brief stop in Kochi, and as we hadn't really started planning the contents of our trip until we were in the air . . . we decided to try and get off the plane there instead of going through to Trivandrum - that would enable us to essentially start at the top of Kerala, and work our way south.  Unfortunately, despite all evidence that India is a by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of place . . . . it turns out this airline wasn't; they wouldn't let us off the plane before our ticketed destination.  And we did try . . . So we continued on to Trivandrum where we emerged into the heat and humidity of Southern India. ( with our luggage intact - I wonder, if they had let us out in Kochi - would our luggage would have joined us or would it have traveled on to Trivandrum and waited for us there?)

Once in the airport, we spent about half an hour at the tourist booth getting information on where we were, where to go, what to do.  We almost missed collecting our baggage we took so long with the tourist booth guy.  So after collecting our luggage and a scary trip to the bathroom, we headed out into the muggy air and I had my first chance to witness my travel partner in action: negotiating with the tuk tuk driver.  Damn, she's good.  I owe much of my current ease negotiating transportation in India to that week with her.  We headed for the train station to begin our adventure  .. . . which, that afternoon, entailed an hour long search (with two very heavy packs) for lunch.  Turns out our driver had dropped us at the back of the train station, not that we realized that until we had walked in circles for almost an hour - and then had to walk the long way around, up hill and over the tracks, to the front of the station to find our place for lunch.  I think I might have whined most of the way about the weight of my pack.  I had forgotten how heavy those things are when you're out of practice (and out of shape again??? shhhhh).

Lunch, however, turned out to be (almost) worth it.  We had traditional South India tali: 4 curries, rice and papad, along with the usual chutneys.  What made it amazing was the presentation.  The tables are set with banana leaves as people sit down, and there are several guys that walk around carrying the various components of the meal.  One guy walks around with a huge bowl of rice, and drops a big pile on your banana leaf as he comes by; another walks around with the super cool server thing that has 4 deep tiffins, each with a different curry, and he heaps some of each of them on your banana leaf.  Another guy walks around offering papads.  Essentially, it's all you can eat, but the buffet comes to you.

Perhaps because we were white tourists, they also included some cutlery on our table - no one else used them . . . and mostly I didn't either.  The South Indian way is to eat with your fingers - right hand only, of course.  Surprisingly, it takes some practice, having been admonished for so many years not to play with our food!  But it is an art form - to scoop up rice and dal or curry into a form that the fingers will pick up and carry to the mouth.  It was fun and satisfying; and really, really, good. 

Once we were stuffed to the gills, we were pretty much pushed out of our spot at the table so that it could seat the next in line.  I've noticed this is pretty typical of South Indian restaurants - even in Delhi.  They are busy, high turnover, and there is no dawdling over the end of your meal . . . and the food is always amazing.

After lunch we waddled back to the train station where we parked ourselves, first for a cup of tea, and then on the platform to wait for our train.  And wait. and wait . . . and wait.  Ahhh, India, how she likes to remind me that plans are such folly.  Our 'plan' was to head down to watch the sun set in Kunyakumari.  Of course, somewhere on a schedule, it also said that the train's plan was to be on time.  Neither plan unfolded quite like that.