It Always Rains on Good Friday

At the airport in Kochi, I stood in the doorway of the exit and watched as shafts of lightning struck the ground and thunder shook the air. I hadn't seen a thunder storm like that in a while. I hopped in a taxi and off we went. The driver was an Indian man who grew up in that area and his name was Peter, which I found interesting. Many Indians will have a westernized name that they use with tourists or foreigners, but this man was named Peter at birth. A while later I noticed a rosary wrapped around the rear view mirror. OK, so that kind of explains it.
When I finally got to my guesthouse in the village of Allappey, the rain had let up a bit. The small town was pretty sedate with not that many people milling around. I'm sure the rain had something to do with that. I checked into my guesthouse and went to see the manager about where I could go to rent a canoe. Around Allappey there are a series of lakes and canals that are known for being beautiful and serene. Many people come there and rent house boats to cruise the canals and spend the night out on the water. These houseboats are more like what we are use to. They do move around by a boat motor and have bedrooms and kitchens on them, but these are huge, bamboo and wood carved things that can fit up to 20 people and they come with a cook, captain and staff. Most of the people going on them are families or honeymooners. I, of course, was opting for the cheap, two seater canoe again.
Once in the manager's office, I told him I would like to find a canoe ride for tomorrow. When I say this, I notice a picture of Jesus hanging on the wall over his desk. He said that it might be difficult to find any boats for tomorrow. When I asked why, he said, because it's Good Friday. I asked him why that would matter here and he replied, "Because everyone in this part of Kerala is Christian."
I found it interesting that there was this pocket of Christianity here in the southern state of Kerala. Come to find out, it's because in the year 52 AD, St. Thomas came here and spread the word. The new Christians referred to themselves then and now as Syrian Christians due to the Syrian liturgy that is used in their services. This would be a pocket of Christianity that received its teachings from someone who was directly taught by Jesus without the hierarchy of a church in the way. You could say that these people here received a "purer" version of Jesus' teachings. No wonder that in the 1500s and 1600s the Roman Catholic Church in Portugal wanted to put an end to that. The Portuguese succeeded in converting many people here to Roman Catholicism though a few of the Syrian Christians remain.
Fortunately, I was able to get a boat. Like in Kashmir it was me and a paddler. The boat paddler didn't want me to paddle on this one either. So I sat under the canopy as the rain poured down. At one point I looked back at my paddler and noticed that he had on one of those umbrella hats to keep off the rain. It was one of the rainbow colored ones like you see people wearing at sporting events. We paddled around the canals for a couple of hours before encountering a massive amount of African Moss.
African Moss is a non native species of water plant that is taking over the waterways here. At times it gets so thick that you can't paddle through it. As was the case now. I turned and asked the boat guy if I could paddle and he desperately said yes. We thrashed in the water trying to get through this stuff with no luck, so we pulled over to the side and walked for a while along the canal walls. On the way back the African Moss got so thick again that we had to wait for a motor boat to go by and then quickly paddle in its wake before the moss closed in on us again. All the while, the rain poured down.
Along the waterways you see people just living their lives, washing clothes, dishes, swimming, cooking, harvesting rice. It's a really peaceful way to see this rural way of life. And though it rained all day it was a fun outing.
The little side road my guesthouse is on has a Hindu temple, a Mosque and a Christian church. In the morning at about 5AM you can have all three of them competing to see who will wake you up first with their loud speakers, chanting and bells.
The next day I took the public ferry to a town called Kottayam. It was another chance to see the local people using their only mode of transportation in and out of their remote villages. Many of the people use the ferry to move their harvested rice out and their supplies in. Also there are plenty of people out on fishing boats net fishing. Many of the boats have names. One that I saw was called the "Infant Jesus". That would be the Indian version of "8 pound 6 ounce Baby Jesus."
When I arrived in Kottayam I realized that it was just a big city, not a small village as I thought. I decided to just have lunch and then make my way back to Alleppey. But as I was having lunch, I noticed a procession of elephants in full regalia go by. I asked the waiter what it was about and he said that today was one of the last days of the Thirunakkara Utsavam Festival. He told me that the festival was to honor the birthday of the Hindu God Shiva and would be taking place that afternoon in the temple up the street with 22 elephants. That's right. Go Shiva! It's your Birthday! It's your birthday! You're the god of destruction, cuz it's your Birthday!
The large football field sized yard in front of the temple was filled with thousands of people. On the temple side of the field was a line of 10 elephants, all done up in full regalia with colorful clothes and golden decorations hanging down between their eyes and over their backs. These were the Shiva Temple's elephants. Across the field facing the temple's elephants was a line of 11 elephants, the largest one in the middle with a statue of Krishna on it. These elephants were from the Krishna temple down the street. I wondered why the Shiva temple elephants only had 10 elephants until I heard horns and bells and turned around to see a giant tusked male elephant, all done up, walking out the front door of the temple and down the stairs to the field. The elephant driver had to duck backwards to fit out of the 2 story high door. The giant elephant had an idol of Shiva on it, held by the driver and it lumbered its way down to the field and took its place in the center. Even though this elephant was huge and all done up and was obviously an older male, it still had that baby face that elephants have.
Once down in the field, the competition began, which consisted of the drivers of the elephants on each side displaying beautiful multi-colored umbrellas over head to the cheering of the crowd. The idea is that whichever side has the most beautiful umbrellas gets the loudest cheers and wins. All the while it poured. I mean monsoon poured. People's personal umbrellas where giving way and the porch areas of the temple were packed with people trying to stay out of the rain. My Goretex raincoat had succumbed to the rain about an hour into the festival and I was soaked to the bone. The only ones truly enjoying the rain were the elephants who finally got to cool down.
As the sun set, the festival continued into the dark. I decided to start making my way back to Allappey, which turned out to be a good choice because the buses were getting fewer and farther between. The ferry ride there would take almost 3 hours, so I was told the bus ride back would be 1-1.5 hours. Not a chance. It took me well over 3 hours to get back.
The next morning I woke and felt in really rough shape both cold wise and gastrointestinally. But I bit the bullet and hopped on another ferry that would move me further south to my next destination. I had lost all my appetite again and didn't eat all day. I passed out on the ferry for 8 hours. This was followed by a dizzying 1.5 hour bus ride. By the time I got to my next destination, the village of Varkala, I was in a daze. I checked into my guesthouse and went to sleep. About an hour later there was a knock on the back door. I woke and got up to answer it. When I opened the door I was greeted with a, "Hey handsome, how've you been?" And there she was. I knew I wasn't making it out of India without seeing her again, my old mistress, the Ghangida.
It would be about 2 and a half days before I could go out and about. The village I was in, Varkala, is a small beach town located right on the water. I decided that since I had lost almost 3 days to that wretched woman that I would stay another few days in Varkala just to recoup and soak up the sun. It was nice. My next three days were spent doing absolutely nothing. I woke up each morning and had breakfast beach side. This was followed by a leisurely walk on the beach and a dip in the bath-warm ocean. During the morning hours you could watch the fishermen go out in their little canoes and net fish. An hour or two later they'd paddle back in and sort the fish on the beach. That night you could have your guesthouse grill up what they caught.
From Varkala, I had time for one more place to visit. I decided on Kanyakumari, the far southern tip of India. It's where the three waters of the Arabian Sea, the Bay of Bengal and the Indian Ocean meet. I hopped a train and headed south.
The train works its way through pineapple farms and some really neat steep sided mountains before the landscape opens up to flat lands that lead to the ocean. There's not much there in Kanyakumari except a couple of temples and the sea. There are quite a few hotels though and a good amount of domestic Indian tourist. Not many foreigners here. It's hot, India hot. I dipped my feet in the water at the tip of the sub continent and looked out over the sea. Tomorrow I would have to turn around and begin a 3 day journey back to the US, but for now, I just soaked my feet.