You know it's a bad scene when the bus "porter" makes the rounds handing out barf bags. My gut is made of iron, so no problems here. But half way through the 36 hairpin curves the bus was filled with the sounds of mostly quiet retching. Many things about India are loud, but the Indians sure know how to vomit quietly in public.
I think it's fair to say that Ooty is particularly stunning - tea plantations are nestled in between forest thickets, and the landscape is dotted with the most charming little wildflowers. Cheerfully colored houses of pepto pink, neon green, ocean blue, tangerine, violet, and vibrant yellow punctuate the hillsides. The people come in all shades and shapes - some descending from the hill tribes, some having migrated over from the Andaman Islands. Unfortunately, none were very friendly.
After arriving in Ooty we walked the narrow, windy streets - capturing photos of buildings and goats and disappointing small school children who requested "the currency of [our] mother country". We lucked upon a locals' restaurant and savored our new favorite Indian dish - masala dosa. Crepes got nothing on this pancake delight. We ate it sans utensils - the Indian way. (I don't think they even had forks to give us if we'd asked for them.) The next morning after an early rise due to an especially noisy hotel room and a woefully disappointing breakfast we took another walk & journeyed over to The Thread Garden - a positively kitsch-tastic roadside stop. This sight features local flora made of thread and housed in a dim-lit shed. Each petal, leaf, and blade of grass was constructed by hand by wrapping brightly-colored thread around a stiff bit of cardboard, The garden took upwards of 50 artists and a dozen years to complete. Lonely Planet says "a feat either terribly impressive or quite pathetic". Notice also the pause at Jolly World - where copyright infringement and tetanus reign free.
After that adventure we booked a car and driver for the afternoon - visiting the Tribal Museum, Tree Garden, Todda Temple, Todda Village, tea plantation, 100 years old church (which as actually almost 200 years old), and the tea factory & museum. The Tribal Museum was a curious little building full of dusty baskets, a few agricultural implements and some horribly preserved taxidermy.
The Todda temple and Todda village(s) were the strangest part of the day (and that's saying something after the Thread Garden and Tribal Museum). We are loathe to treat people as if they are some sort of museum piece, trample all over their homes, ogle them, and snap photos as they simply go about living. We commiserated with some cattle and a cute little puppy and left rather quickly.
The tea parts were the true show stoppers of the day. I wish we could share with you the delicious fragrance of the tea factory. It's amazing that tea was discovered since the tea leaf smells and tastes like nothing - but after it goes through this arduous process it becomes a mystical, delicious treasure. We ended our day with a chilly tuk tuk ride to the Savoy Hotel where I enjoyed a rather expensive whiskey sour and convinced the bartender not to put egg white in it. )Since when does a whiskey sour have raw egg white?) After our day-long tour we'd seen the happs in Ooty, and it was time to press on.
I wussed out of the lowest class gov't bus to Coimbatore (no AC gov't buses go that way). You know the Indian buses you see on TV and in the movies - with folks crammed into every inch, riding atop the bus, and hanging out of the windows and doors? It's true. Some buses are like that, and I just couldn't do it. We shelled out $30 for a rented car instead. And since I did that bragging about my super-excellent immune system - of course I came down with a cold. I turned out to have picked the best time for it because there is nothing to see or do in Coimbatore. It's just a launching point. So I drank my Indian cough syrup and lounged in bed watching "So You Think You Can Dance" and then "Mall Cop".
While I was recovering Fran ventured out alone to procure train tickets to Kochi/Fort Cochin. Alas - AC trains were booked for the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next - for the next 3 weeks. So, we had to book the Sleeper Car - a non AC train car just a slight step above the wooden bench second class cars that look frighteningly like the lowest class gov't buses. When I saw the first few sleeper cars pull into the station my stomach began to turn a bit - they looked pretty sketchy and pretty packed. So, I swallowed that xanax I'd been saving, took a few deep breaths, and reminded myself it was only for four and a half hours of my life - plus we've done some pretty rough traveling in SE Asia - albeit in our somewhat younger days. We did have to kick some Indians out of our seats - they'd commandeered them in our absence. But they graciously moved. And with my ipod, xanax, and Faulkner novel - the time passed rather quickly. As I recalled from the 2007 Long Leg to Laos - Citizen Cope makes an excellent soundtrack for train travel. This time I added some of The Clash for good measure.
And so here we are halfway through the migration - in Fort Cochin - the most touristy spot (aside from the Taj Mahal) we've yet seen. The Euros & Aussies are here in full force - with their dreadlocks and Tevas - strolling the streets in their pyjama pants with cloth bags and cameras in tow. We've finally found the Indian heat we anticipated. It's blazing hot here - wilting this migrant monkey whose sweat is indeed sweaty.
We lucked into delightful accommodation at Walden's Home Stay. It is without a doubt the cleanest place we've stayed so far. Mr. Walden is charming and helpful and will no doubt garner my highest accolades on TripAdvisor. We'll be here for two more nights before we meet up with Joe and Shikha. We'll travel with them for 8 days around Kerala. Stay tuned for shenanigans and random musings.
Due to yet another format-fail (Jhames, I need yer help!) I'm going to close this post and post the rest of the photos separately.
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