Men and Women

I try not to be judgemental.  I have a hard time accepting some things about Indian culture.  Gender roles are ultra-defined.  Women’s roles are strictly set out, and “happily” adhered to by most.  One wife wakes up at 4:30 am to make sure she has time to prepare lunch for her husband before he leaves for work at 7:30.  When she was ill and spent two days in hospital, her husband and son checked into a hotel.  God forbid they should actually make food for themselves for two days – just not done.

Sandia's Family and Neighbours

Many men work away from home.  In one family, the husband works in Dubai, and only comes home to Kochi for two weeks a year at Christmas time.  This is normal and common.

Boys and men frolic on the beach, swimming and playing together, in bathing suits and western clothing.  Women watch.  A couple of them may go in the water, fully clothed in their traditional saris.  This is normal, and totally accepted.

Most don’t know how to swim, though they are surrounded by water.  A houseboat in Allepei tipped at the dock, and two children and two women died, and many were injured.  We heard of another tragedy, where 40 children from 10 to 12 years of age were on a field trip from school, on a wooden boat with a capacity for 20 people.  The boat sunk and dozens died.  They couldn’t swim, and there were only a couple of life jackets, not in use.

We saw a celebration in Munnar with 25 women dancing freely together – the husbands were nowhere to be seen.  If they were there, the women could not be free to dance, since the husbands would not like other men to see “their women” dancing.  Only when the men are not around are the women free to “party”.

Women Dancing

On the buses, women sit at the front, men in the rear.  Even Amy and I separate in deference to the custom.  Why?

In the little restaurants, dozens of men sit, no women to be seen.  They are at home, cooking and cleaning for their families.

Whatever the man says, this is what is done.  Yet the women appear strong, happy and not meek.  Most seem to accept this reality, without question.

If a woman is divorced or widowed, there is usually no consideration of remarriage, and even if there are children, they are left to provide for them alone, often with extreme deprivation.  We did hear that in the Muslim community, a brother of the husband or other family member might marry the woman – perhaps an additional wife – to provide.  But in the Hindu tradition, this is not done.

Men leave their wives, and there is nothing to be done, no help, no support.  To me it seems unfair, but in this world, it is accepted as what is.  My western judgement (discernment?) cries out that this is completely unfair, but I don’t know if it’s seen that way here.  It’s hard to fathom.

Yet, the people seem happy, so friendly, warm and genuine.  Perhaps it is the daily spiritual connection that allows them to accept what is with grace and make the best of it.  I don’t often hear complaints, but do experience their sense of gratitude to God or the Cosmos for life, however it is presented.

Children rarely cry, except for very young babies.  They seem content, happy with their family life, and curious to meet us “fresh monkeys”.  Yet we hear that children are beaten (the “bamboo massage”) and this is acceptable, as long as it is done to teach and not because of uncontrolled anger.  We hear stories of rape of daughters by fathers, and sometimes these things are reported and dealt with, sometimes not.  Sometimes the mothers say and do nothing to stop it.

So many contradictions and questions.  It's hard to avoid judgement, but I try.

Munnar

One of our favourite activities here in Cochin is spending time with our Yoga teacher Sajee and his family.  On weekends, we go on little excursions to places nearby.  This weekend we were more adventurous.  Sajee’s wife Ajee took a half-day “leave” from her work, and we picked her up in Ernakulum in the Tata car with Vinaya, their 14 year-old daughter.  Then we headed out to Munnar, a four-hour journey through the Western Ghats (mountains).  The travel was a little tortuous – the roads are quite atrocious once you get away from the big towns like Ernakulum.  Potholes, narrowed stretches, and even the areas that are not damaged are so narrow we have to pull over to let a bus pass.  And this is the main road to Munnar, a very popular tourist hill station.

Travels with Sajee and family

We stopped along the way, for lunch, to stretch, to see some of the nice scenic views in the hills.  Once we had travelled for about an hour, the mountains begin, the road twists and turns, and for once, there is space between towns, forests, open spaces, and lots of green everywhere.  It starts to get cooler as we go to higher elevations – ahhh – we’ve been hot for a month, this is such a pleasant change.

We finally arrive in Munnar at around 6 pm, and there are no rooms available.  We travel back 8 kms to the previous town called Pallivassar, found a very expensive little hotel (2000 rupees a night = $40!).  Sajee, Ajee and Vinaya took the larger room in the hotel building, so they could bring an extra mattress, and we took a room on stilts, elaborately decorated like a tree house!  It was very small, cute, and when we walked, the room shook!  There was a TV in the room, so we stayed and relaxed for an hour, watching Animal Planet on one of the few English stations.  We learned about the life of rhinoceroses – very interesting.

Tree House

We went for dinner in the larger hotel next door, and as we ate, we heard recorded music playing outside in the back.  A group of about 25 Indian women were celebrating a birthday.  They lit a campfire, and were dancing happily in a circle around the fire.  When one of them came through the restaurant, she invited Amy to come and dance with them.   Vinaya and Ajee joined.  Then they invited me to dance!  I was surrounded by 25 beautiful Indian women, who took turns dancing with me.  Wow!

 

After, we went back to our room to sleep in the nice cool room.  I awoke in the middle of the night to a new sensation – silence!  Fort Cochin, though a small town, is always noisy.  The fans are always going to combat the heat, there is A/C next door, there are dogs barking, horns honking – cars, tuk tuks and “2 wheelers” -  people’s voices very early in the morning, loud crows and other birds.  Usually I wear earplugs.  Here, it was so nice and quiet – peace.  At least until 6:15 when the church up the road starting blasting morning devotional music in Malayalam!  Wake up!!

We went back to Munnar for breakfast, then we went “trekking” in the tea plantations.  We walked up the hillside for at least an hour, till there were no people, only birds and trees and tea bushes everywhere.  Sajee went for a stroll and saw a cobra.  We walked, we talked, we sat, it was wonderful!  Talks with Sajee are often Satsang.  He speaks about what is real life – freeing ourselves from the “golden veil” of  pleasure and illusion, liberating ourselves to find the true unity of Self with Cosmos.  I say: “I understand that as a goal, but it’s not even my goal in life, at least not at this time.  I want to be here, to experience the pain and pleasures, to live fully on this earth, hopefully with little moments of realization of the true Self. “  He said: “Those moments are for those who have experienced cosmic conscious(ness).  You know what is Truth, and when it is time, you will be ready to be liberated.” 

 As we descended back towards town, Ajee stopped to talk to a local villager, and she invited us to her home for tea.  We learned that she works for the tea plantation owners, they provide the house for 13 years for their workers.  She earns 150 rupees per eight hour day ($3), her husband is away, she has three children, must pay for school, medicine and all.  We gave her some rupees (she didn’t want to take them, but we convinced her it was a gift, not payment for tea and hospitality), and we went on our way.

On our way home, we again made several stops to break up the long journey.  Our last stop was a bird sanctuary.  By the time we got there, it was almost closing time, so we decided to just walk around the sanctuary – the birds would also fly outside the sanctuary, wouldn’t they?  We did see some very nice water birds, egrets, colourful kingfishers, ducks, as well as some land animals, some that looked like reindeer, water buffalos, and so on.  Again we stopped to talk to some locals at a “Toddy” shop.  Toddy is an alcoholic drink made from coconut flowers, and so we sampled it, a couple of sips anyway, then took the rest home in a bottle.  As we were leaving, the proprietors shouted and pointed up the hill, and there was a wild elephant strolling through the woods – yet was another highlight of our trip – our first wild elephant sighting!

Time spent with Sajee and his family is precious, soon our time will be up in Cochin, and we will have these many special moments as memories.

Politics and Culture

India has a rather unruly democracy, but a democracy it is.  In spite of rampant corruption (where is there no corruption?), people are free to speak their minds, free to protest government policies – though sometimes the police and military do brutal crackdowns in “problem” areas of the country – and free to practice their religions and cultural traditions.

The other day as I was riding my bike to my favourite morning stop, I saw a group of protesters walking down the main road, KB Jacob Road, carrying communist flags and chanting loudly.  Of course, the Communist Party of India is fully legal and recognized here.  In fact in Kerala the Communist Party regularly won state elections and was the ruling party for more than 20 years, until they were recently voted out and replaced a more right wing party.  Nevertheless, they are a force to be reckoned with here in Kerala.

Protesters parade

On my way back from the beach, I pedalled through a large park area, and there they were again, parked in front of the local Excise Tax office, loudly complaining about policies.  There seemed to be an older man who was the leader, and he spoke for a while before the chanting began again.  The police were there, watching calmly, not interfering.  There was little tension, it was an acceptable activity for society here.

The "rally"

I read in the Indian newspaper about allegations of corruption, bribes and so on.  And of course there are family dynasties that always seem to be either in power, or on the threshold of power.  The Gandhis have always been a force since Mahatma, and the latest of the family, Rahul, has recently been chosen as vice president of the national ruling party, the Congress Party.  There are editorials for and against in the paper, not unlike the rants we read in Canadian papers for and against Stephen Harper (mostly against, I’m thinking).  So it’s same, same, only different.

People talk politics freely here, almost as much as they talk about the recent India / England cricket match (same same only different).  This is the big news.

It amazes me to experience the culture and politics of India.  In some ways, it is very sophisticated.  The art forms are based on thousands of years of practice, and are very highly developed.  The music is complex, soulful, varied, and the musicians show great mastery.  There is nothing backward about the musical accomplishments here.  The same goes for the many types of visual art and installation art we are seeing.  The first Bienniale in India is happening here in Kochi, and so we have visited several venues.  Some of the art is political, including a gripping presentation about unrest in Orissa state, where large industrial companies have displaced the local tribes to construct a huge industrial area.  When the tribes people came to protest peacefully in 2006, they were met with landmines and police bullets.  More than 60 people were killed, and the atrocity has been covered up, until this artist created a video and art installation – at great personal risk – to bring the situation to the world’s attention.  And so we were able to see this as part of a major Art Festival in Kochi.

Some of the art is highly conceptual.  In fact the concepts are so high they are way over my head.  Amy and I walk through several installations, and shake our heads.  “What was that?”  To me it seemed very self-indulgent and without a lot of depth or content.  Other presentations were much more interesting.  Artists from all over India as well as other countries (Pakistan, Iran, Australia, Holland, Germany and elsewhere) are presenting here.  It’s a big production with at least 20 venues.  I’m glad we are able to experience it.
As part of the Bienniale celebrations, last night we attended Shakespeare in the park, a presentation of a Polish theatre troupe, re-imagining Macbeth in a production called “Macbeth: Who is that Bloodied Man?” There were spirit like creatures on stilts, an operatic singer “narrating” parts of the story in heavily accented English, some dialogue, motorcycles, fires, and lots of killing.  It was a real spectacle, and we enjoyed it very much.  Of course, there were many locals watching as well, and we noticed at least a dozen cell phones going off at various points in the play, and the people answered their phones and carried on conversations in fairly loud voices as though it was normal (I guess it is!)

Ghosts on stilts - Macbeth

After the show, we went to the Teapot Café for chai masala, iced coffee with ice cream and dessert.  I asked the waiter about the “Death by Chocolate”, and he deadpanned: “Chocolate cake.”  So I passed.  Then the people at the next table started talking to us.  Of course, they were from Vancouver, so we traced common connections - there were many - and they recommended the “Chocolate cake”, so we ordered it (it was very good).  We had a nice visit with them, they had just arrived Cochin, so we offered suggestions of places to visit, and of course, saw them again this morning at our recommended breakfast restaurant (Kashi).  We will see them again in Canada, I’m sure.  Such is the way of travel.

Robert and Nicole (and Death by Chocolate)

 India, strange and wonderful.

My Bicycle Adventure

The best way to get around Cochi is by bicycle.  Rather than rent a bike, this year I took a bike from our yoga teacher Sajee and repaired it for around 600 rupees ($12).  I’ll use it for the month we are here, then leave him with a usable bike.

It’s worked out really well.  One day last week Amy and I rode down to Kashi for one of our favourite lunches, sprouted salad with whole wheat garlic toast and pressed coffee.  I was commenting to her how it’s just the perfect bike.  I shouldn’t have said that!

After lunch we went outside to pick up our bikes and head to a shop up the street.  Amy took off, and I unlocked the bike and stepped on the pedal to mount.  As I did, the left handlebar snapped right off and I took a nasty spill.  I scraped my elbow, bruised my left hip, and scratched my chest while ripping my favourite orange shirt from GIRO (Gabriola Island Recycling Depot).  Disaster!

Amy was nowhere to be seen.  Some people saw me fall and helped me up.  I told them I was fine, and walked the bike to where Amy was.  I was more shocked then hurt, but it did shake me up!  So we walked the bikes home and I tended to my (minor) wounds.

The next day I walked the bike to the repairman and in body language showed him the problem.  He fussed with it a little, then waved down the street – in other words he couldn’t do the welding job required, and it was “down that way”.  Okay fine.  So I walked a few blocks down the little village road, and spotted a shop where a man was welding.  I said hello and showed him the bike.  After a moment he shook his head and said something like “goswulda”.  I said pardon, and he repeated: “goswulda, goswulda” and waved in the other direction.  Finally I understood: gas welder!  He said go over the bridge and then turn left.  So I did. The bridge crossed a stream.  I walked the bike several more blocks down an even smaller village road.  Trust the universe, I kept saying.

A group of young men were hanging out on another little bridge.  I asked if they knew the gas welder, and one man stepped up to be the “agent”.  He said “Yes yes” and pointed to a shop across the road.  “He is coming, he is coming. Just wait”.  After a couple of minutes, I saw a tuk tuk truck slowly coming towards the shop.  As it approached I saw that it was towing another tuk tuk truck with a rope.  This was the gas welder.  After I helped them push the broken-down truck into a parking place adjacent to the shop, he took a look at my bike, fiddled with the handlebar, and nodded yes, he could fix it.  Of course the young man was translating, while telling me about his business: “You know the Chinese Fishing nets?  I have three, they are mine.”  Hmmm, not sure about this guy.

The welder proceeded to whip out his gas torch and metal “solder” and joined the handlebar to the frame.  Then the other man rummaged through the store for some sandpaper and sanded the edges smooth.  The welder emerged from another part of the store with a can of black paint and with his finger, dabbed paint on the repaired part.

The “agent” seemed to be negotiating on his behalf, since his English was good.  He said: “ It will cost 100 Rupees, normally it would be much more, maybe 400.”  Such a prince, I thought.  So once it was done, I gave the welder 100 rupees ($2).  He seemed a little embarrassed (probably would have charged 50 if the “agent” wasn’t there).  Then the agent said I should give him extra, and the welder then waved him away to say no no.

I must say this young man and his crew made me feel uncomfortable – they were not very nice.  That is unusual here, most people are just wonderful.

Okay so I have my spiffy “new” bike – just don’t touch the paint for a while the welder warns me.  So I ride home happy.

Of course the next day I have a flat tire – my poor bike is still not out of the woods.  I walk it back to my repairman – not there.  Oh boy!  So I look for another shop to fill it, and went to at least four places before I finally found one, who filled the tire for 10 rupees (ripoff!).  I rode home, and it was flat again!! The next day I went back without the bike to talk to him, and he’s there.  So I tell him I will be back in an hour with the bike.  When I return with the bike, he’s not there!  Now I’m getting pissed off!!

Amy comes with her bike, and we get ready to leave when he shows up, pointing to his lunch “tiffin” – a container of food he had gone to pick up.  He looks at the tire, says “Puncture?” and I leave the bike with him, returning in an hour.  All fixed.  Of course I check the bike over, have him put a new screw in the bell, and generally tighten things up, the lock, the fenders, etc.  How much I ask? 15 rupees.  I thought he said 50 so I gave him that ($1).  He gave me 35 back in change.

Our bike man with our bikes

And now my bike is perfect again.

Strange and Wonderful

India can be so strange to our western eyes.  Such a crazy mix – beautiful and odd.

There is a struggle between the old and new.  Arranged marriages are the norm, with strictly prescribed steps, all controlled by the parents or in their absence, uncles and other relatives.  We may look askance at this practice, yet when we questioned a local person about it, he asked: “So how did your ‘free’ marriage work out?”  Divorce in India is almost unheard of.  Then there is the Ayurvedic doctor who divorced her alcoholic husband.

One man sits with me at my favourite morning spot by the water, and regales me with his life story, his philosophy, his own late marriage process and more.  He bewails the advent of Internet and cell phone, saying “Our children are destroyed by these technologies, they show no respect for parents and elders anymore.”  He also decried the pursuit of wealth: “Money makes the devil dance.” 

Here in Kochi, we have seen more than anywhere else in India a real blend of religious life: Hindu, Moslem, Jain, Jewish, Zoroastrian, and others, all seeming to coexist in harmony.  And the lines between religions are blurred.  The Hindu temples each have a chosen deity to whom people come to offer prayers and thanks (puja).  Then there are Christian shrines with their saints – Mother Theresa, Jesus, Mary Magdalene, St. Francis Xavier.  Christianity takes on a decidedly Malayalam flavour here, with similar music to the Hindu temples.  And the muezzin’s call to prayer at the mosque is also similar, sweet and mournful, not harsh and insistent as we have experienced in other places.  If I could sum it up I would say that spiritual life is sweet, ever-present and inviting in whatever form you choose.  And while some say Hinduism is polytheistic, with all the deities and idols, Hindus say no they are completely monotheistic – there is only one God, and that God is for everyone and in everyone.  The deities are simply aspects of God that can be described and used as a tool for prayer and thanksgiving.

Billboard - old and new

Most of the women and men wear traditional clothing: saris for the women and dhotis for the men.  Yet some prefer jeans and Nike shirts.  You never see short skirts or much skin on Indian women, while many western tourists are dressed for the beach, to the chagrin of some locals.  Many locals are barefoot, most wear chappals (sandals).

Boy with his pet pigeon and egg

While India is certainly not a clean environment, with mounds of garbage everywhere and open sewage streams running through the towns, people take great care of their bodies.  Morning ablutions are performed faithfully and thoroughly, people look squeaky clean, with hair shining.  Children in school uniforms are scrubbed and glowing.  This morning I saw a group of girls strolling together to school, stopping to pick some beautiful strands of yellow flowers from some low-hanging branches.

Huge tree in the field

There is a peaceful joy emanating everywhere – so different from my memories of grey and miserable faces on the subway and streets of Toronto.  They have so little, yet they appear to be rich and happy in life.  Life is good – even with hardship and suffering – God provides.

My Favourite Place

Chinese Fishing Net

My favourite spot in Kochin is by the water, sitting on a bench, the last Chinese Fishing Net in front of me.  My favourite time is in the early morning when it’s cool and quiet.  I watch the men retrieving the odd fish from the nets.  Hundreds of crows are squawking, scavenging bits of food, twigs and seaweed.  A family of goats drops by, the billy in charge of his several wives, playfully butting heads with his current #1 wife.  Hawks, kites (a hawk-like bird with a cream-coloured head) swoop gracefully.  I see what looks like a heron float by.

Goat Family

Fishing Boat

Sandia

I greet Sandia, the woman who cleans this little stretch of beach each day (except Sunday – holiday).  She has a sweet smile.  I see her every morning when I come here.  A young man with a backpack greets me: “Good morning, Sir” before I have a chance to make eye contact.  A man collects plastic bottles for resale to recyclers.  Thank God!  There are thousands of them littering the beach!

DCI Dredge VIII

The dredging ship DCI Dredge VIII rumbles by, sucking in the sea-bottom and then dumping further out in the Arabian Sea, then returning to refill its hold and repeat the process, back and forth, through the day.  This channel was formed in 1920 when Lord Willingdon, the English colonial “ruler” of Kochin commissioned a dredging ship - The Lord Willingdon of course – to dig the channel between the Arabian Sea and Vembanad Lake, creating a major shipping port in Kochi.  In doing so, he also created a new island called – Willingdon Island, of course.  (Gellman Island – has a nice ring, don’t it?)  Now, Kochin is a major seaport carrying containers, liquid natural gas, and exports of tea, spices and manufactured goods from Ernakulum and the rest of Kerala.

A naval helicopter roars overhead.  The Naval Headquarters and Command for South India, as well as the Naval Training Academy and military airstrip are all here.

I LOVE Kochin.  Staying in one place for a month allows us to become a part of the community here just a little bit.  We know the old woman who operates the Empress Bakery, a small shop on KB Jacob Road, the man who offers me masala chai (with no sugar) at his stall on the beach.  These rituals make my life so rich – I feel comfortable, at home, at peace.

This is my reflection time, and I am cherishing it.

A Day of Rest in Cochin

Saturday, Shabbat, and I need a day of rest!  I have been to Yoga class every afternoon since we got here, plus three Ayurvedic treatments, and my body is going through a definite healing process.  Today, I take the day off of Yoga and most other activity, though there are plans for this evening.

India is such a strange and wonderful place.  There are things about it that are incomprehensible, illogical, and generally weird.  Examples:

Yesterday I saw a family of five on a motorcycle, daddy driving (of course), mommy and three kids, including a babe in arms.  And – one helmet for the driver.  This is called normal here, one helmet, the others don’t need.  Why?  Don’t ask.

Every bank machine will only provide 10,000 rupees (about $185), and there is a $5 charge each withdrawal.  The sign on the ATM says “30,000 maximum withdrawal” – meaningless.  And ask the man who “guards” the ATM why, he says this is the way it is.  Then Amy goes to a machine, and she can take 20,000.  Why?  Don’t ask.

The electricity is up and down like a yo-yo in this town.  Usually there is a half hour in the morning and a half hour in the evening.  While “the current” is out, it gets really hot in the room, with no fan.  Sometimes it can go down three or four times a day for various lengths of time.  Why?  Don’t ask.

Kochin is the site of a major naval base, perhaps the largest in South India.  It boggles the mind how much land it occupies here, how many men are employed, and the billions of dollars spent on helicopters airplanes, warships and so on that are visible and active each day.  Yet, most people are very poor.  Why?  Don’t ask.

Malay English is a different language – the vocabulary, the accent, the expressions.  The street signs and store signs are ridiculous.  Flyers advertising Ayurvedic Treatment centres pay no attention to spelling, punctuation, or “proper” English.  Example:

“Ancient India had remarkable advancement in various branches of science and so-on.  Thousands of years age Ayurveda, the science of life span originated from the Divine memory of Lord Brahma in the time immemorium and practised by the Ancient ‘Rishis’ in India. It is a medical system that emphasis prevention of all ills, ailments and ethies on living to attain Physical and mental happiness and longivity.”  I kid you not – I’m going right away!

The first European church in India is here, St. Francis, founded during the time of Vasco da Gama, who lived and died here in the early 1500s.  The church was more recently renovated – in 1776!  Vasco da Gama’s tomb is in the church, but his body is not, it was removed back to Portugal.

Also the oldest “active” synagogue in India, the Paredesi Synagogue in Mattancherry, a few kilometre bike ride from us, in Jew Town (!).  There are only a handful of Jewish residents left, and they are passing on, or moving to Israel, so it’s future is in doubt.  They can’t often get a minyan, so there are no services.

My favourite thing about India and Fort Cochin is the people!  The local people are virtually all open, friendly, interested, and smiling.  They reach out to say hello, ask where you are from, and smile. And the little ones?  They melt my heart just to look at them, they are so lovely and wide-eyed.  I don’t know why, but I almost never hear a child crying here.  In spite of hardship and suffering, poverty and illness, happiness exudes from almost everyone.  They are rich, rich people, and I love being around them.  I am comfortable being here, in spite of the heat and mosquitoes, the garbage and sewage. The least friendly people are most of the western tourists, many of whom walk around with scowls on their faces.  Oh well.

Here are some photos from the last few days - shopping trip to Jewtown (!)

Look who's riding!

Ferry boat near Jewtown

Lunch at Ginger Restaurant

Part of Ginger Gallery

 

Life in Cochin

We’ve been here over a week now, and we are settling into a bit of a routine.  Our time in Cochin is really focused on healing and Yoga, and that’s working for us.  I am feeling like my body is opening up again, after a long hiatus from Yoga.  I went for a couple of Ayurvedic treatments and they were much needed as well.

It’s different for me this time around.  Three years ago we came to India for the first time, and the culture shock was remarkable.  I remember one of my first taxi rides in Goa on a Saturday night, travelling to the next town for a little fair.  I thought we were going to die a dozen times on that ride, and our friends advised me to just close my eyes.  It was so shocking to see the way cars weaved in and out and around lanes, other vehicles, cows, bicycles, honking merrily every two seconds!  My blood pressure doubled!

Now, either the driving is different (not!) or it’s just what is normal for India.  We can be headed for a head-on crash, and I just know the driver will swerve in time or the other driver will slow down if necessary.  It’s like there is a code of conduct on the road.  Always honk to let others know you are there, feel free to weave however you like, and let others in if they are two inches from your bumper.  Virtually no road rage or impatience, everyone just knows that this is how it’s done.  And I am relaxed (most of the time!).

That’s just one example, but the reality is, India is comfortable for me now.  There is no culture shock.  I love the life here - though I wouldn’t want to live here permanently -  and the locals are much more than friendly.  People often ask if they can have a photo taken with us (we’re fresh monkeys after all), they introduce us to their families, invite us for tea, whatever.  The least friendly people here are westerners, though some are open and wonderful.  It’s just strange…

The only real discomfort for me is the heat.  Averaging well over 30 degrees Celsius every day, humid, lots of mosquitoes, I have taken to waking early and heading out before it gets too hot.  The nicest time to be out is between 6 and 10 am.  I change my shirt a few times a day, a shower or two every day, lots of wiping of sweat, and of course, the fan on full in our home stay room.  Fortunately, there are good screens on the windows of our room, so the mosquitoes aren’t bad where we sleep.

Paul and Sajee
 
Sajee is my Yoga teacher, and he is fabulous, as a teacher and as a friend.  On Sunday we went for two excursions, one with him and his daughter Vinaya to visit the beginning of the backwaters about a half hour away, and another to a bird sanctuary two hours away with Sajee and Ajee (Mom and Dad) and Vinaya (daughter) and Taku (son), all stuffed into their little car.  On the first trip we met a family at their home on the water.  It sounds exclusive – waterfront home – but believe me, it’s not!  A small building, very simple, and three families living together, at least 9 people.  It’s not their property, but they’ve lived there for 25 years.  There is no documentation of ownership, so they pay no rent.  Still, they are very poor.  The father offered to take us on a boat ride, so we piled in, Amy, me, Vinaya, and three little ones.  After Sajee told us he rented the boat from a neighbour just for us, since his boat was being repaired.  They have so little, but they give without hesitation.  Beautiful simple people, suffering deprivation and poverty, but shining inside, open and warm and welcoming.  This is India.  We will return to visit them again, and we will bring food for a feast to cook and share together.
 

The family

Paul Ajee Amy Taku and Vinaya

Our boat ride approaches

Arriving in Cochin

JFK - departing for India

 Happy New Year!  Amy and I arrived in Cochin at 3:30 am (!) on Dec. 30, after 18 hours of travel.  We crossed 10 ½ time zones, slept maybe four or five hours in total, and arrived to 28 degree heat!  We waited another two hours for the bus to Cochin, avoiding the expensive taxis, and arrived at our yoga teacher’s house at around 7:45 am, greeted warmly by Sajee and his family. We stowed our suitcases and gear, and went with him to a nearby Homestay to seek accommodation for the month of January.

Waiting for the bus, Cochin, 5 am!

Costa Gama is the name of the preferred Homestay.  It is very near Sajee’s, and is a family home with three rooms for guests upstairs.  All the rooms were taken for the next three days, so we walked around looking for other places for three days.  We found another place nearby called Wills Homestay, and it was available after 3 pm. We finally settled in, and then went for our first yoga class at 4 pm.

I love my yoga teacher!  Sajee is one of the main magnets for being in Cochin.  I am starting to open up again, having mostly abandoned my regular Yoga practice over the past year.  It feels so good to stretch, breathe, and be surrounded in the cosmic energy of a truly spiritual yoga practice.  This will provide great healing and strength, and Lord knows we need it!

Cochin is incredibly hot and humid, unlike the last time I was here three years ago.  Sajee and others say it has never been so hot in December/January.  So like the rest of the world, climate is changing.  We are slowly adjusting to the heat, but it is hard on the body and mind.  We even paid extra for air conditioning for two of the three nights at Wills Homestay, which is very unusual for us.  We usually avoid A/C and opt for a good fan.  There are also lots of mosquitoes, though here at Costa Gama Homestay there are good screens so we can keep them out of our room. And this morning, I woke up and it was a little cooler, so that’s an excellent sign.

New Year's Day Carnival Float

New Year’s is a real trip in Cochin.  Most of Kerala does not make a big deal of New Year’s, but Cochin is different.  The custom here is to make hundreds of Santa Claus effigies, and to have many people dress as Santa Clauses and other characters and monsters.  At midnight, the effigies are burned (to start the New Year fresh, to burn away the past year) and there are incredible fireworks.

We celebrated with Sajee, who invited musical friends to come and play ragas.  I joined in meekly on the violin for a few tunes.  There was alcohol (which is rare) and food for the men.  The women were in a different room hanging out.  There is such a division of the genders in India.  The women are strong and beautiful, but their roles are so defined it’s like we’re in a different century.  Lots of evolvement required here, as we read of the horrendous rape that, tragic though it is, may actually finally spur a change in some attitudes, especially Indian men and government, those in positions of power. Things have to change for women in India (and everywhere!)