Cochin-3

Chinese Fishing Nets

Beach Trash

Kathakali Dancer

Jan. 14, 2013- Fish Tail

So the mosque not only uses amplifiers to call people to worship, they also broadcast the entire worship service. So be it. We had to get up early this morning anyway.

The body count today is less one. Charlotte flew home yesterday as she was too ill to continue. We have some with colds & two with bronchitis. The doctor saw them today & gave them antibiotics. He'll come with expectorant this evening. The cost was $35 including meds.

Charles had a gleam in his eyes when we assembled at 6:30AM to board a ferry for parts unknown. We then took a bus & ended up at the wharf where the fishing boats unload and auction their wares. What fun listening to the auctioneer running the show in Malayalam. We knew exactly what was happening if not the amounts. The lot of fish we saw him sell was about 200 lbs. & went for $350 as translated by Charles. Cats lurked in the shadows waiting for an opportune moment to snatch  & grab. I don't think they've been very successful judging by how skinny they were.

Learned something about segregation here. It exists on buses. They are divided by gender. Women either sit in the front or the aisle is used as a division between the sexes. I told Charles we tried that in the States by race & it was overthrown. Tom from S. Africa said they had similar results. Charles said there's already the beginning of rebellion among university students.

We were ferried back, had breakfast, & strolled to see the Chinese fishing nets in action. Enormous blue nets are suspended over the water & lowered then raised every five minutes. The catch is meager each time but the profit nowadays is in tourist trade. We were allowed to "help" them raise the nets as they "assisted" us by pulling on the end of the ropes from where boulders used as weights hung. As they were lowering the nets once more, one of the men got his ankle caught in the rope & was being lifted into the air. Reactions were instant & he was safely extricated.

We continued our walk along the shore of the Arabian Sea.Trash, trash, trash. Another bird shat on Charles, lucky man, & he wiped it off with a tissue. He's immaculate & very disturbed & embarrassed by the filth of his country so he & we were on the lookout for trash receptacles in which to toss the tissue. It was a challenge.

Something Old, Something New

We diverted to St. Francis Indian Anglican Church, the oldest European Church in Kerala. Vasco de Gama found the route to India in 1498 & the church was built by the Portuguese in 1501. He had the help of a Muslim guide who advised him of the route. He traveled by caravan to S. Africa timing it so the wind of the S.W. monsoon pushed them to the Malabar Coast. They waited for the winds to rise up against the Himalayas where they reversed & became N.E. winds pushing the boats home. Vasco de Gama died here on his fourth trip. He was buried in the church until his son came to claim his body & bury it in Lisbon. We have a picture of the tomb where de Gama is not.

In 1667 the Dutch took over & the church became Dutch Reformed. When the British came it became Anglican. It is now Indian Anglican. They're not responsible to the Archbishop of Canterbury. When the Brits left other Christian denominations moved into the area.

Onward to the dhobi walla to pick up our duds. Our thirty-four pieces cost a grand total of $13. They were ironed, folded, & the shirts were folded around newspaper. Charles said  to keep the paper in the shirts. His always look fresh & immaculately pressed. The paper is his secret.

We boarded the bus for the newer area of Cochin called Ernakulam & a trip to a shopping mall. The area had new construction, high rise apartment buildings, nicer shops, & somewhat less trash. The mall was not air-conditioned & most of the stores were closed. Those that were open sold watches or tech stuff. We wandered around for half an hour then found our way back to the meeting place.

Lunch was at a lovely popular hotel restaurant patronized by Indians & us. David noticed that Charles tips as we go. He tipped the hotel doorman, ticket takers, & most anyone who does anything for us. It surely smoothes the way for his groups.

There was a biennial art exhibit at a "palace" across from our hotel. I wonder if the old, distinguished, mold ridden, peeling buildings were ever lovely. We wandered over there, paid a dollar entrance fee, & meandered through the rooms. The first exhibit was an image projected onto the fabric covered end of a heat duct. It showed an elderly person moaning in agony then sneezing.  The sneeze was so loud & juicy that I almost ducked. The next room had a photo of thirteen chador clad women posed ala Last Supper. It was entitled Last Supper-Gaza. The interpretation was that Abbas had betrayed the Palestinians. Just my cup of tea. The next display made us think we'd wandered into the Minnesota State Fair. An entire wall had been hung with a hundred or more small black boxes of different grains of rice. They were labeled meticulously in English & some language using Sanskrit letters. I'm sure it was a labor of love. It was lost on me. At least at the fair I could get the rice fried & on a stick.The other rooms were sprinkled with various works that lost out to my sense of being steamed in the ever oppressive heat. When we emerged onto a waterfront lawn we sought refuge at a cafe table, downed Diet Cokes, & fled back to the hotel. I'm such a Troglodyte.

Night Life

There was a little excitement at our hotel this evening. We were waiting to meet Charles around the pool when three policemen appeared. They were joined by the manager as he led them up to our floor. They knocked on a door & the police entered. They were in there a very long time & we left before they emerged. We asked Charles for an interpretation. There was a Pakistani staying in that room. The hotel has to report all Pakistani visitors to the police. They were checking to be sure he was legitimate. Perhaps they were searching his room. We'll never know.

Our treat for the evening was seeing the Kathakali dancers. We arrived early for the last part of what is a two hour long application of make-up. The narrator then walked us through an explanation & interpretation of the facial, neck, & eye movements conveying the nine emotions while the thirty-four hand gestures filled out the rest of the story. The Kathakali is a dance indigenous to Kerala & performed only by men. Faces are painted in vivid blue, black, yellow, & red while the costuming can only be described as over the top in opulence, color, & grandeur.  The dances are usually devotional in nature & tell the story of the supernatural adventures of the gods. In this case, the storyline was similar to a good old Gilbert & Sullivan operetta. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, girl isn't who she seems to be, boy cuts off girls breast & banishes her to the netherworld. Well, maybe not exactly like G & S.

Through some housekeeping glitch we have washcloths! Oh joy!

We fly to Bangalore tomorrow & have to wake up at 4:30AM. From there we drive directly to Mysore. It's 100 miles & will take four hours.

Toby