Fort Cohin

You know when you travel to somewhere that you expect to stay two days, but it's like something is in the air and suddenly it is five days later? For me that place is Fort Cochin.

From Hampi we got a night bus to Bangalore and spent the day roaming around the city. I'd like to think in the 8 hours of my stay I did what all Bangalorians do, I shopped and drank in swanky lounges. We did have one other stop off which was the Post Office, to lighten our load of gifts and purchases. We calculated a 15 minute stop off, rather generous I thought. No no, what was I thinking? It was a two and a half hour job. Once again, for those who read too quickly and can't appreciate my pain, two and a half hours. Let us set aside for a moment that we were the only customers in the building and that staff numbered 12 that I could see. The simple process of putting our belongings in a plastic sleeve and having it sewn up with material would take, oh...twenty minutes each? And so I was introduced, (in the most savage fashion I think) to Indian time. A mysterious thing this India time, it can stop and start for no reason that my Australian eye can see. I would have thought that stopping once from packing my belongings to chat to some other employee was understandable, perhaps she has been sick and in need of comfort. Indians are very good at that you know. But after the fourth stop I suspected that they were reduced to such idle conversation as whoses breakfast biscuit was of a firmer consistancy. I am proud to say that I didn't lose it, (like one unfortunate incident ina KFC in Chile which I would sooner forget) but went to work on packing it my bloody self. The lady bolted over and smiled saying "No no, I'll do that!" Lesson learned, you attract more flies with honey than vinegar.

Then it was a night train into Enarkulam, (in Kerala state) then a 6am ferry across to Fort Cochin. It was only 48 hours in one outfit so we didn't smell too bad, but we showered before heading out into the town in case locals mistook us for homeless people who sleep in rubbish piles. The town has a Portuguese history and I was quite amazed to see a Dutch East India Trading Company logo still visiable above the door frame of a house. Clauds and I spent the day roaming around seeing all the sites that Fort Cochin has to offer, which we accomplished pretty quickly. There is history here, (churches, houses, mosques, Jain temples etc) but it isn't that crash hot. The Indo - Portuguese museum was 25 ruppee entry, so I thought it would be quite interesting or imformative at the least. Lets just say I would have had more fun if I ate my rupee note and leave it at that. But yet I was happy, I am happy here. I can understand why tourist buses come for the day and clear out at night, for there is only so much activity to occupy you during the day, but they are missing out. The joy of Fort Cochin is the walk from place to place. To sit and look at the mammoth Chinese fishing nets, to see the kids playing soccer, hockey, cricket and even badmitton. The greenery and the island hospitality on this little peninsula make me very content.

It is a pleasant 3km walk to Jew town, (it's actual name, not my boring description of it) where there is such an aromatic spice market and a lovely old 15th century synagogue...or so I've heard. On my trips I have come to the conclusion that I have a Jewish curse on my head. I don't know why, perhaps I wronged someone in a past life. Anyhoo, I love synagogues. I love to sit in them and look at all the architecture and I get a great feeling of peace. Both synagogues that I have made an effort to see on my travels have both had their doors closed to me. The first was in Split, Croatia, I think the second oldest one in the world?!? Every time closed. Fine. So I make my way through Jew Town, towards the synagogue with great excitment. I reach the door and read "Closed for Passover 21 - 28 April". God dammit. On reflection maybe I am cursed for taking the Lord's name in vain.

Clauds and I saw the most amazing performance only found in Kerala state, Kathakali. Kathakali is a silent preformance by men only, (the female parts included) and it means 'to tell a story'. How they tell it is magnificent, it is through facial expressions and manipulations. We arrived early to see them putting on their elaborate make-up. Out walked a thin 50+ male who looked like he spent his life labouring in the sun, I watched transfixed as he put on his make-up and transformed into a woman. They way he smiled and held his cheekbones, the way he inclined his head ever so slightly as to look coy, but alluring. I was gobsmacked. The fact that he could flirt better than me during his performance is not too amazing, I think a female cat can do it better than me really. But it was how exaggerated but spot on all his cheek puffing, lip trembling, eye communication was. The story they told was how a demoness transformed herself into a beautiful women to steal angels from heaven for the pleasure of her brother, but seeing the son of a God fell madly in love. On realising her true form this son/God chopped off her ears, nose and breasts.

Marvellous.

Other wise I really haven't been doing much her except partaking of my favourite pastime, food. It's all fresh seafood here and I have been eating mussels, squid, red snapper and tiger prawns. Imagine if a lobster and prawn had offspring, that is tiger prawn. Huge, meaty and thoroughly satisfying grilled with garlic, ginger and lemon.

I'm hungry.

xoxo
Sim