February 9 - 11, 2006 - Cochin and Fort Cochin
February 9 - Cochin
Grand Hotel in Cochin
All of a sudden, there was our hotel – a very pleasant surprise. The Grand Hotel looked genuinely nice, if not quite grand, and while the décor and furnishings were sparse, my huge, third-floor room was more than adequate (except that its window was in the front of the building and looked right on the street). And – joy of joys – the hotel had an elevator! ( The steps, however, always seemed to be much quicker.)
We decided to look for a place to eat after we checked in. At 8 p.m, Betty, Rick, Susan, Debbie and I all met in the lobby and left the hotel. Even at this time of night, there were people and vehicles everywhere. The sidewalks were a mixture of different building materials, and the sidewalk segment heights changed every few feet – they were all in need of major repair. After walking a couple blocks, we didn’t see any restaurants, though there were clothing stores in every direction selling Indian apparel. The shop windows displayed beautiful saris in every color of the rainbow. I was hoping I could buy one while I was in India!
We ended up eating in the hotel restaurant, which apparently was the place to go! It was filled with not only Westerners, but also Indians. I had coconut rice and mutton in coconut milk. Outstanding!! I then ordered a cup of coffee, which was some of the best-tasting coffee I had ever had. It was served with the milk already in it – probably because it needed to be boiled – and it had a slight chocolate taste. The waiter missed Rick’s food order completely, and . . . well, I’m not sure what he ended up eating! Debbie loved her food, but after she ate a couple “green beans,” which turned out to be some kind of super-hot pepper, she couldn’t eat anymore. By Indian standards, the cost of my meal was probably expensive – 215 rupees ($1 = 45 rupees). It was excellent; and – bonus – I didn’t get sick. (At 6:30 a.m the next morning, so far so good.)
[As a side note, in India, mutton can be either goat or lamb. Since lamb has a very distinct taste which I don't like, I have the feeling that my meal this night was goat, though I don't know for sure.]
We decided to look for a place to eat after we checked in. At 8 p.m, Betty, Rick, Susan, Debbie and I all met in the lobby and left the hotel. Even at this time of night, there were people and vehicles everywhere. The sidewalks were a mixture of different building materials, and the sidewalk segment heights changed every few feet – they were all in need of major repair. After walking a couple blocks, we didn’t see any restaurants, though there were clothing stores in every direction selling Indian apparel. The shop windows displayed beautiful saris in every color of the rainbow. I was hoping I could buy one while I was in India!
We ended up eating in the hotel restaurant, which apparently was the place to go! It was filled with not only Westerners, but also Indians. I had coconut rice and mutton in coconut milk. Outstanding!! I then ordered a cup of coffee, which was some of the best-tasting coffee I had ever had. It was served with the milk already in it – probably because it needed to be boiled – and it had a slight chocolate taste. The waiter missed Rick’s food order completely, and . . . well, I’m not sure what he ended up eating! Debbie loved her food, but after she ate a couple “green beans,” which turned out to be some kind of super-hot pepper, she couldn’t eat anymore. By Indian standards, the cost of my meal was probably expensive – 215 rupees ($1 = 45 rupees). It was excellent; and – bonus – I didn’t get sick. (At 6:30 a.m the next morning, so far so good.)
[As a side note, in India, mutton can be either goat or lamb. Since lamb has a very distinct taste which I don't like, I have the feeling that my meal this night was goat, though I don't know for sure.]
February 10, 2006 - Cochin and Meeting the Rest of our Traveling Companions
It was 5:50 a.m. and I was wide awake on this – my first morning in Cochin. I was still tired, but it was no use trying to sleep. My third-floor hotel room faced the street, which had been going non-stop since before the sun was up. At 4:30 a.m., I had awoken with a start to a deafening sound – a cross between a construction crane pounding a pylon into the ground and the loudest thunder I had ever heard – that was sustained over 5-6 seconds. For the next 20 minutes it continued, though only for a second at a time. It was so loud that my hotel room windows shuddered. (I never did discover what was making all the racket.) Then the traffic noise started – trucks rumbling by, the whiny cry of motor scooters, cars, and the ubiquitous “honk-honk.” I was sure that if I looked out of my window at that same moment I would have also seen a multitude of people moving about.
We were on the go all day, with breakfast at 8:45, then a long walk to find a money exchange, then exploring up and down the streets. Right before breakfast, my stomach started cramping up really bad and I felt terrible. After taking some Pepto Bismol I felt a lot better, but still a little queasy. Not an intestinal thing – just stomach. Thus, for breakfast I had only toast and tea.
The strap on one of Susan's sandals had broke, and we were on a quest to find her a pair of new shoes. Indian women are very dainty, and so are their feet, and with Susan's Sasquatch-sized tootsies, it was a hopeless situation. After checking a dozen stores selling shoes, the largest pair we could find were about the equivalent to a ladies' size 6 in the U.S. We then went on the hunt to find Debbie some short-sleeved shirts. (For some reason, Debbie packed only long-sleeved shirts in that huge duffle of hers. Fifty-five pounds of stuff and not a short-sleeved shirt to be found. And it was HOT in India.) We ended up in a “mall,” the D.D. Trade Centre, where every clerk tried to get us to come into their little shop. Susan and I wound up in a place to buy Susan a skirt. Because we Westerners are twice the size of the average Indian woman, Susan got a wrap-around skirt but had a tailor quickly sew the two edges together so it would fit. I ended up getting one as well, also with the edges sewn together. Only 220 rupees. The sales people in the shop were really nice: a young girl, early 20’s, and a guy, 26. We had tons of other guys come into the shop to look at Susan and me – well, mostly Susan; apparently they just loved her curly hair, and they all wanted their picture taken with her. I got a photo of Nishima, the girl who helped run the shop. She took my address and I got hers to send her a copy of the photo. Needless to say, Debbie, who was by now with just Betty and Rick, could not find any short-sleeved shirts, but she did find a tailor to make her a few, which she was to pick up the following day.
(Click on the images below to view.)
We were on the go all day, with breakfast at 8:45, then a long walk to find a money exchange, then exploring up and down the streets. Right before breakfast, my stomach started cramping up really bad and I felt terrible. After taking some Pepto Bismol I felt a lot better, but still a little queasy. Not an intestinal thing – just stomach. Thus, for breakfast I had only toast and tea.
The strap on one of Susan's sandals had broke, and we were on a quest to find her a pair of new shoes. Indian women are very dainty, and so are their feet, and with Susan's Sasquatch-sized tootsies, it was a hopeless situation. After checking a dozen stores selling shoes, the largest pair we could find were about the equivalent to a ladies' size 6 in the U.S. We then went on the hunt to find Debbie some short-sleeved shirts. (For some reason, Debbie packed only long-sleeved shirts in that huge duffle of hers. Fifty-five pounds of stuff and not a short-sleeved shirt to be found. And it was HOT in India.) We ended up in a “mall,” the D.D. Trade Centre, where every clerk tried to get us to come into their little shop. Susan and I wound up in a place to buy Susan a skirt. Because we Westerners are twice the size of the average Indian woman, Susan got a wrap-around skirt but had a tailor quickly sew the two edges together so it would fit. I ended up getting one as well, also with the edges sewn together. Only 220 rupees. The sales people in the shop were really nice: a young girl, early 20’s, and a guy, 26. We had tons of other guys come into the shop to look at Susan and me – well, mostly Susan; apparently they just loved her curly hair, and they all wanted their picture taken with her. I got a photo of Nishima, the girl who helped run the shop. She took my address and I got hers to send her a copy of the photo. Needless to say, Debbie, who was by now with just Betty and Rick, could not find any short-sleeved shirts, but she did find a tailor to make her a few, which she was to pick up the following day.
(Click on the images below to view.)
We ate lunch at the Tandoor Restaurant, down the street and around the corner from the hotel. The place was full of Indians – we were the only Westerners. I had only vegetable rice because of my stomach, and sweet hot tea with milk (chai), but everyone else had a full meal. The restaurant was really nice. Lunch cost me 140 rupees, the equivalent of about $3.11.
Everyone else went shopping (I think!), but I didn't feel that great, so I went back to my hotel room at 3:30 for a quick snooze. It was very hot outside. As I reflected on what I had experienced so far in India, I realized that as yet I hadn't see the poverty like I thought I would, but there was trash everywhere. And, walking around the streets was very dangerous because of all of the traffic. Plus, we had to remember to look the opposite way before we crossed the road because traffic drives on the other side. Here's a video of typical Indian driving.
Everyone else went shopping (I think!), but I didn't feel that great, so I went back to my hotel room at 3:30 for a quick snooze. It was very hot outside. As I reflected on what I had experienced so far in India, I realized that as yet I hadn't see the poverty like I thought I would, but there was trash everywhere. And, walking around the streets was very dangerous because of all of the traffic. Plus, we had to remember to look the opposite way before we crossed the road because traffic drives on the other side. Here's a video of typical Indian driving.
At 6 p.m. I met the rest of our traveling companions. Besides Betty, Rick, Susan, Debbie and myself, there were 3 other couples: Ben and Emma (from England), Paul and Angela (from Australia), and Ann and Bill (from England), plus one single guy, Kevin (from England). Ben and Emma were young, probably late 20’s, and Paul and Angela were probably 30-something. The rest were 40’s and 50’s. I was to have my own room the entire southern portion of the trip since there was no other single female to share with. While I was going to miss getting to know another person “intimately,” I thought it would be kind of nice not having to share a bathroom and deal with another person’s idiosyncrasies, or them mine!
Our group leader was born in India, but grew up in Sweden. She was European, though; not Indian. She was really into the Hindu religion and had taken the Hindu name of Karmapriya; we were to call her "Priya" for short. (Priya's given name was Jessica.) Anyway, I was going to read the stuff she gave to us at dinner before I headed off to bed that night. The next day was to be an early morning. Breakfast was scheduled at 7:45.
Oh, dinner was at the hotel restaurant with the group. I was still concerned about my tummy, so I had vegetable rice. Very good. And Indian coffee again, also very good.
Our group leader was born in India, but grew up in Sweden. She was European, though; not Indian. She was really into the Hindu religion and had taken the Hindu name of Karmapriya; we were to call her "Priya" for short. (Priya's given name was Jessica.) Anyway, I was going to read the stuff she gave to us at dinner before I headed off to bed that night. The next day was to be an early morning. Breakfast was scheduled at 7:45.
Oh, dinner was at the hotel restaurant with the group. I was still concerned about my tummy, so I had vegetable rice. Very good. And Indian coffee again, also very good.
February 11, 2010 - Fort Cochin
Our boat to Fort Kochi. Not quite the QE2.
At 6:30 a.m. I was up. I made it through the night without getting sick from dinner. Woohoo! I took a shower, which felt great. I was to meet Susan, Debbie, Betty and Rick at 7:45 for breakfast. Today the adventure officially begins.
We had breakfast at the hotel. Afterwards we met up with the rest of our traveling companions, and then it was off to Jewtown and the spice markets of Fort Cochin. We all walked down to the waterfront to catch the boat across Cochin’s inlet. It was a fairly decent vessel, but nothing at all like what you would see in the U.S., as far as its condition. Approaching the other side of the shore, I could see the Colonial influence in the buildings of Fort Cochin, which was once under the possession of the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British at different points in time; however, even from a distance, it was obvious that the buildings were not being kept up. After all, this was India!
Alighting from the boat, I was immediately assailed by people trying to sell me souvenirs. Quite junky stuff! Leaving the hawkers behind, we walked down a very narrow street with a few storefronts, but mostly doors leading to who-knows-where. Goats were everywhere. I didn’t see many women, but men were quite conspicuous.
After awhile, the road opened into the spice market, with dozens of storefronts selling spices native to South India. The smells of the spices were pleasantly pungent. Ginger, cardamom and others. The spices were not ground up, but whole. As I walked by the spice merchants, I could see heaps of spices laid on the floor inside their establishments.
As usual, we seemed to be the main attraction as we walked through the town. People stared at us, and sometimes approached us to try to sell us something. Priya told me I had mastered the “ignore them” persona; I told her I had learned it a few years earlier when I had traveled in Africa.
Spice Town turned into Jewtown, which used to be the home to several thousand Jewish people. However, most of them have migrated to Israel or to the U.S., and there were only a handful left in Cochin. The shops in Jewtown sold mostly what looked to be antique artifacts, though it is illegal in India to take anything out of the country that is over 100 years old. There were also quite a few stores selling beautiful shawls.
Tucked away in a cul-de-sac at the end of a narrow lane in the heart of Jewtown was India’s oldest synagogue, which, unfortunately, was closed on the day I visited. The first Jewish settlers were said to have reached India in the first century AD. Their settlement, then known as Shingly, prospered over the centuries. However, persecution by the Portuguese in the early 16th century forced them to migrate to Cochin, where they settled on land given to them by the raja, and they built a synagogue in 1568. Cochin’s Jewish community was divided into two distinct groups – the so-called Black or Malabari Jews who claimed to be descendants of the original settlers, and the White or Paradesim Jews who came to India from the Middle East and after whom the synagogue was named. A third, smaller group was the Brown or Meshuhurarum Jews, descended from converted slaves, many of whom were in the spice trade. In 1940, there were 2,500 Jews in Cochin, but when I visited in 2006 only twelve remained. According to our guide, this tiny Jewish community remained active in spite of such low numbers. There had been no rabbi within living memory, but the elders were qualified to perform religious ceremonies and marriages.
The present synagogue, Paradesi Synagogue, with its tiled roof and clock tower, was rebuilt in 1664 with Dutch help, after the Portuguese destroyed the previous one in 1662. The synagogue’s treasures include the beautiful silver and gold Torah oil lamps, crystal chandeliers and a superbly crafted pulpit. The floor is covered with exquisite hand-painted blue willow-pattern tiles, which were brought from China in the mid-18th century by a powerful merchant, Ezekiel Rahabi. Too bad I was unable to see any of these lovely things since the synagogue was closed.
We had breakfast at the hotel. Afterwards we met up with the rest of our traveling companions, and then it was off to Jewtown and the spice markets of Fort Cochin. We all walked down to the waterfront to catch the boat across Cochin’s inlet. It was a fairly decent vessel, but nothing at all like what you would see in the U.S., as far as its condition. Approaching the other side of the shore, I could see the Colonial influence in the buildings of Fort Cochin, which was once under the possession of the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British at different points in time; however, even from a distance, it was obvious that the buildings were not being kept up. After all, this was India!
Alighting from the boat, I was immediately assailed by people trying to sell me souvenirs. Quite junky stuff! Leaving the hawkers behind, we walked down a very narrow street with a few storefronts, but mostly doors leading to who-knows-where. Goats were everywhere. I didn’t see many women, but men were quite conspicuous.
After awhile, the road opened into the spice market, with dozens of storefronts selling spices native to South India. The smells of the spices were pleasantly pungent. Ginger, cardamom and others. The spices were not ground up, but whole. As I walked by the spice merchants, I could see heaps of spices laid on the floor inside their establishments.
As usual, we seemed to be the main attraction as we walked through the town. People stared at us, and sometimes approached us to try to sell us something. Priya told me I had mastered the “ignore them” persona; I told her I had learned it a few years earlier when I had traveled in Africa.
Spice Town turned into Jewtown, which used to be the home to several thousand Jewish people. However, most of them have migrated to Israel or to the U.S., and there were only a handful left in Cochin. The shops in Jewtown sold mostly what looked to be antique artifacts, though it is illegal in India to take anything out of the country that is over 100 years old. There were also quite a few stores selling beautiful shawls.
Tucked away in a cul-de-sac at the end of a narrow lane in the heart of Jewtown was India’s oldest synagogue, which, unfortunately, was closed on the day I visited. The first Jewish settlers were said to have reached India in the first century AD. Their settlement, then known as Shingly, prospered over the centuries. However, persecution by the Portuguese in the early 16th century forced them to migrate to Cochin, where they settled on land given to them by the raja, and they built a synagogue in 1568. Cochin’s Jewish community was divided into two distinct groups – the so-called Black or Malabari Jews who claimed to be descendants of the original settlers, and the White or Paradesim Jews who came to India from the Middle East and after whom the synagogue was named. A third, smaller group was the Brown or Meshuhurarum Jews, descended from converted slaves, many of whom were in the spice trade. In 1940, there were 2,500 Jews in Cochin, but when I visited in 2006 only twelve remained. According to our guide, this tiny Jewish community remained active in spite of such low numbers. There had been no rabbi within living memory, but the elders were qualified to perform religious ceremonies and marriages.
The present synagogue, Paradesi Synagogue, with its tiled roof and clock tower, was rebuilt in 1664 with Dutch help, after the Portuguese destroyed the previous one in 1662. The synagogue’s treasures include the beautiful silver and gold Torah oil lamps, crystal chandeliers and a superbly crafted pulpit. The floor is covered with exquisite hand-painted blue willow-pattern tiles, which were brought from China in the mid-18th century by a powerful merchant, Ezekiel Rahabi. Too bad I was unable to see any of these lovely things since the synagogue was closed.
Dutch Palace
We then visited Mattancherry Palace, otherwise known as the Dutch Palace. It was not built by the Dutch, but by the Portuguese in 1545 for the raja of Cochin, Veera Kerala Varma, as a gesture of goodwill and to secure trading privileges. The Dutch renovated the palace in 1663 to thank the raja for allowing them to be on the trade route (I think the spice trade), hence the name "Dutch Palace." The palace was not ornate like people typically think of palaces, but it was a two-story U-shaped building with beautiful painted wall murals depicting scenes from the Ramayana and of Hindu women, animals and gods. Some of the murals were in bad shape, but others were still quite intact.
There also was a great display of palanquins. Some were very ornate, but must have been quite hot as they were enclosed. And, believe me, it was extremely hot in the palace. I stood by an open window to get some air and saw the bathing ghat, which was still used by the locals. In fact, I saw several men go to bathe, though you can’t actually see them washing because there is a wall surrounding the ghat. I did, however, see a naked man drying himself off with his threadbare towel; believe me, there was no modesty there in India.
There also was a great display of palanquins. Some were very ornate, but must have been quite hot as they were enclosed. And, believe me, it was extremely hot in the palace. I stood by an open window to get some air and saw the bathing ghat, which was still used by the locals. In fact, I saw several men go to bathe, though you can’t actually see them washing because there is a wall surrounding the ghat. I did, however, see a naked man drying himself off with his threadbare towel; believe me, there was no modesty there in India.
We then took auto rickshaws to St. Francis Church where Vasco de Gama was buried. (He has since been moved back to his home country of Portugal.) Built in 1503, it is the oldest European church in India.
Chinese Fishing Nets
We then walked to the coast to see the Chinese fishing nets. The nets are fixed land installations, which are used for a very unique and unusual method of fishing. Operated from the shore, these nets are set up on bamboo and teak poles and held horizontally by huge mechanisms, which lower them into the sea. They look somewhat like hammocks and are counter-weighted by large stones tied to ropes.
The entire structure of a Chinese fishing net, which is operated by a team of six men, is about 30 feet in height and spreads to about 65 feet over the water. The whole contraption is such that the weight of a man walking along the main beam is sufficient to cause the net to descend into the sea.
The net is left in the water for a short time – four to five minutes – before it is raised back by tugging the ropes. The catch is usually small, but the fish can be sold to passersby in a jiffy.
The Chinese fishing nets of Cochin are said to have their origin in – where else – China. This is not totally impossible, as China is located at a distance of 3,100 miles from Cochin, and the city has always been an important center for trade, attracting traders and seafarers from far and near. Legend has it that the nets were introduced in Fort Cochin by the Chinese explorer, Zheng He. They were brought from the court of Chinese emperor Kublai Khan, and they have been in operation since that time only.
The entire structure of a Chinese fishing net, which is operated by a team of six men, is about 30 feet in height and spreads to about 65 feet over the water. The whole contraption is such that the weight of a man walking along the main beam is sufficient to cause the net to descend into the sea.
The net is left in the water for a short time – four to five minutes – before it is raised back by tugging the ropes. The catch is usually small, but the fish can be sold to passersby in a jiffy.
The Chinese fishing nets of Cochin are said to have their origin in – where else – China. This is not totally impossible, as China is located at a distance of 3,100 miles from Cochin, and the city has always been an important center for trade, attracting traders and seafarers from far and near. Legend has it that the nets were introduced in Fort Cochin by the Chinese explorer, Zheng He. They were brought from the court of Chinese emperor Kublai Khan, and they have been in operation since that time only.
The area surrounding the Chinese fishing nets was very touristy, with many outdoor vendors selling all kinds of souvenirs.
We ate lunch at a nice little restaurant near the water. I forgot about the food rule: if it isn’t cooked or peeled, don’t eat it; and I ate the cabbage salad that came with my meal. It was quite good, but I was worried the rest of the day about getting sick. (I didn’t, by the way.) Afterwards, we were on our own. I went to find a snake charmer and had to pay him 50 rupees to take pictures!
Snake charming originated in India and is an inherited profession. Most would-be charmers begin learning the practice at a young age from their fathers. Part of this is due to the caste system, and snake charmers have little other job choice. In fact, entire settlements of snake charmers and their families exist in some parts of India. Hinduism has long held serpents to be sacred, and many Hindu gods are pictured under the protection of the cobra. Indians thus consider snake charmers to be holy men who are influenced by the gods.
Snake charming originated in India and is an inherited profession. Most would-be charmers begin learning the practice at a young age from their fathers. Part of this is due to the caste system, and snake charmers have little other job choice. In fact, entire settlements of snake charmers and their families exist in some parts of India. Hinduism has long held serpents to be sacred, and many Hindu gods are pictured under the protection of the cobra. Indians thus consider snake charmers to be holy men who are influenced by the gods.
Kathakali Dancing
That night we went to see a Kathakali performance. Kathakali is a highly stylized classical Indian dance-drama noted for its attractive make-up of characters, their elaborate costumes, detailed gestures and well-defined body movements presented in tune with the anchor playback music and complementary percussion. Regardless of whether the role is male or female, all of the performers are male. It originated in the country's southern state of Kerala during the 16th century, approximately between 1555 and 1605.
A Kathakali actor uses immense concentration, skill and physical stamina, gained from regimented training based on Kalaripayattu, the ancient martial art of Kerala, to prepare for his demanding role. The intensive training can often last for 8 to 10 years. In Kathakali, the story is enacted purely by the movements of the hands (called mudras or hand gestures) and by facial expressions (rasas) and bodily movements.
The tiny theater where we went to for the performance was down a side street in a very out-of-the-way area of Cochin. The show started with the application of the dancers’ make-up, which took over an hour. During this time, the “emcee,” who also happened to own the theater, explained to us about the make-up. The main character was an older man – at least he looked about 50. The “woman” was played by a guy in his 30s, though he looked younger. This particular Kathakali dance was about a beautiful woman who was trying to win the affection of a man, whom I think was a god. The man-god rebuffed the woman, but she kept trying to win him over. Despite her best attempts, he continued to reject her. She became more and more angry until finally she “exploded” in rage and became a hag.
A Kathakali actor uses immense concentration, skill and physical stamina, gained from regimented training based on Kalaripayattu, the ancient martial art of Kerala, to prepare for his demanding role. The intensive training can often last for 8 to 10 years. In Kathakali, the story is enacted purely by the movements of the hands (called mudras or hand gestures) and by facial expressions (rasas) and bodily movements.
The tiny theater where we went to for the performance was down a side street in a very out-of-the-way area of Cochin. The show started with the application of the dancers’ make-up, which took over an hour. During this time, the “emcee,” who also happened to own the theater, explained to us about the make-up. The main character was an older man – at least he looked about 50. The “woman” was played by a guy in his 30s, though he looked younger. This particular Kathakali dance was about a beautiful woman who was trying to win the affection of a man, whom I think was a god. The man-god rebuffed the woman, but she kept trying to win him over. Despite her best attempts, he continued to reject her. She became more and more angry until finally she “exploded” in rage and became a hag.
Afterwards, I had dinner with the group at Tandoor, where I had eaten lunch with Betty, Rick, Susan and Debbie the day before. I had vegetable rice and a Pepsi for 70 rupees, the equivalent of about $1.55.
NEXT: KERALA BACKWATERS, INDIA
NEXT: KERALA BACKWATERS, INDIA