The last 3 days have been a blur of color, heat, and food; in other words, I've been to Cochin. Kate and I stayed in a homestay in Fort Cochin, the older and more touristy part of town, with a lovely woman named Linda. Linda cooked us superb breakfasts, arranged most of our travel for us, helped us get taxis and alter clothing, lent us money, took Kate to the doctor when she fell ill (through no fault of Linda's), and took care of us the whole time. She was our Cochin mother, and we love her.
Cochin is beautiful, full of brightly painted houses and trailing vines. The first thing you notice, though, is not the beauty, but the heat. It was 90+F every day, with sweltering humidity. By the ocean the breeze kept me comfortable, but everywhere else was a sauna. 5 minutes outdoors was enough for rivulets of sweat to run down my eyelids and back; I took 2-3 showers per day, and after 3 days my lips were blistered from the heat and humidity. Apparently it's even worse in May--I cannot imagine. Nevertheless, Cochin retains its charm.
Below: beachside sunsets, trailing vines, and lacy shadows.
During our stay in Cochin, we wandered about the city, bought too many souvenirs, and enjoyed the views. We also managed to take a day to tour the backwater areas outside the city center. Linda had arranged this tour, and one day we were picked up by a mysterious van whose driver would not tell us where we were going. We, along with other hapless tourists, were herded on to a handmade boat to meander down the river. We stopped to watch rope being made from coconut fibers (very cool), and were transferred to smaller canoes to head down a smaller side canal. Here we saw women washing clothes and napping by the side of the river, mischievous little boys who splashed us during their swimming, all in the most peaceful setting I can imagine.
Below: big boat - selfie time feat. confused stranger in background -canoe ride
We also saw spice trees! Everything from nutmeg (the seeds of little fruits, with a red internal membrane that becomes mace), peppercorns, cassie cinnamon, turmeric root, and cloves to pineapple (it grows on a bush! and when you pick the fruit, the whole plant dies). I never really thought about where spices come from before--I suppose I just assumed they fell from the sky as perfectly-ground powder in little plastic tubs? It was truly remarkable.
Below: pineapple bush with baby pineapple.
Unfortunately, during our backwater tour, Kate fell ill through no fault of Le Linda's or the tour. That night Linda very graciously took us to the hospital, and on the way I had visions of an all-night wait, insurance nightmares, appointment scheduling problems. Instead I was greeted with the most unexpected of miracles: cheap, fast, effective health care! I felt like I was visiting a hairdresser: we were in and out in 30 minutes, and the entire thing cost $4, including Kate's medication, without insurance! US Senators, please take note: it is possible, and if India can do it, so can we.
While that episode certainly impressed me, another set of incidents did not. I've never been stared at, especially so frankly, while walking around minding my own business (wearing clothes that met all Indian standards of modesty, mind you). Multiple people, mostly young men, asked to take selfies with me; I refused all advances save one, a four year old girl. She is innocent, but the adults should know better. I was also followed home in my return from the beach, but I lost the fellow and felt very street-savvy.
Now, we had arrived in Cochin during Holi, the Hindu Festival of Colors famous for colored powder thrown everywhere. The first day I tried to find the celebration, but missed it by a mere half hour. Fortunately, the different temples coordinated their Holi festivals, and I finally found the celebration the next day. Kate was still not totally recovered, so I was on my own, but thankfully a man with two adorable children took me under his wing, explained the festival to me, and kept me safe from a few men who were a bit harrassing. I am so grateful to him; I would not have been brave enough to stick it out alone.
Below: my esteemed Holi guide and his 2 adorable babies
Holi itself was amazing! First the procession started with a small crowd surrounding a band, dancing and smearing each other's faces with powder. I was the favorite target for color smearing, especially from children, probably because I shine like a white sweaty beacon. We processed through the streets and the crowd grew, and also grew proportionally more raucous.. My nice painter man kept me and the children following at a respectable distance, until the crowd stopped to burn an effigy and dance around it (I am not kidding). Then everybody headed home to wash up, which proved a more troublesome task than I envisioned.
Below: slightly more flattering Holi selfie - early dancing - fire dance
That powder just would not wash off; I scrubbed myself raw, and still wound up with a blue mustache and a smear of colors that looked suspiciously like a nasty bruise on my chest. Linda yet again saved the day by rubbing coconut oil on the powder, which dissolved the color over a few hours. I'm very curious as to how that reaction worked, but I was too relieved to ask questions.
That night Linda also taught us to make parathas, a flakey, delicious, and very oily bread, and fried chicken curry. It was about as healthy as you might imagine, but boy, did it taste good.
Below: amazing food - magical Indian spice tin that every Indian woman possesses
We finished our time in Cochin by getting henna done on our hands; it was lovely, so much so that we kept the dried paste on overnight to make it last as long as possible. Henna crusts filled the sheets when we awoke, but the result was worth it (and yes, Mom, I did clean off the sheets before leaving):
Below: before & after henna
Sadly, Kate and I parted ways this morning, Kate to journey back to the US, and me to meet my sister in Singapore. While I'm excited for my travels with my sister, I am truly sad to leave India; it's a fascinating country, and I shall return again (and next time for longer).
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