Cochin

Having completed our shopping wishes yesterday, we joined a short tour of Cochin this morning, setting off before the heat became too oppressive.

I try hard to be sensitive in the photos I take, always ask permission of those who will be the focus of a picture and feel a responsibility to record a fair portrait of a place without dwelling on one particular aspect.  I recognise that the places we visit are not all perfect in every way but yet I don’t want to give too much precedence to the more unpleasant aspects.  When I uploaded today’s photographs, therefore, I was surprised to see the figure lying in the road.  When I took the photograph, I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t notice him – I may well have framed the picture differently if I had.  But in telling the story of our day, it seems wrong to crop him out of the picture.  Cochin is, I’m sure, far from being the only city in the world where someone is sleeping (I hope) on the street at 9am on a Tuesday morning.

So, having driven through the streets and made our way to Fort Cochin, the old European settlement, our first stop was at the small church of St Francis.  We stepped inside and appreciated the cool, still air as we looked around.

This is where Vasco da Gama was buried in 1524, before his remains were transferred to Lisbon.  Though this was interesting and our guide certainly had plenty to say about the place, I found myself enjoying a couple of different aspects in here.

First of all, the pews, all of which had beautifully caned seats.  Far more comfortable than the hard wood we endure in our local parish church and a very wise choice for a hot climate.

Second, the punkahs above the rows of seating, operated by the punkah-walla sitting outside.  These could be sprayed with water, offering a cooling breeze during a long service.  Fascinating!

Cochin has always been a city of traders and of course, any area frequented by tourists was going to attract the trinket sellers.  We walked along here to the Chinese fishing nets, with the constant and persistent attention of people wanting to sell us fans, anklets, postcards, paintings, whatever.

Having arrived at the fishing nets, the focus changed from trying to sell things to offering to move the nets for photos, “for five dollar”.  Bearing in mind the heat was building, the fish was being sold nearby and the nets were drying in the sun, this wasn’t the most fragrant of places to linger.

Nevertheless, I lightened this woman’s load of wooden printing stamps by one, handing it to my hero to carry for me.  Five minutes later, when we were both covered with red ink, I was beginning to question the wisdom of my purchase.

(If anyone needs a fingerprint from me, I can supply several pretty near perfect ones from the sketchbook cover I was carrying!)

Onwards, through narrow streets “like any European city” according to our guide, which perhaps revealed how little he knew of such places, but clearly the upmarket guest houses and small boutique hotels in this area are flourishing.  Delightfully pretty on the outside, I wonder what the inside is like?

Cochin is a remarkably green place and we did a fair bit of fruit spotting along the way.  Above are breadfruit, used as vegetables here.

Next door were many banana trees and huge jackfruit, sometimes weighing 15kg each.

The roof structure of the small museum was interesting, especially where the design on the reverse of the terracotta roof tiles was visible.

My favourite had to be this lock, though.  I’m pleased to say it was given pride of place in the museum collection.

After a brief stop at the Dutch Palace, we were set free in Jew Street.

This area of the city is the main focus for tourist shopping and undoubtedly there were bargains to be had.  However, most things were of inferior quality to those we saw yesterday and we found ourselves feeling pleased that we had already bought our souvenirs.

So, whilst most people dipped in and out of the clothing stores, the jewellers and antique shops, we just looked…here, inside the ginger market, where large quantities of dried ginger were being graded and sold wholesale.

Resisting all invitations to “come inside madam….just take a short look…one minute to see what lovely things are here…” we pottered around for a half hour.

Cupboard door knob anyone?  I think we identified where Anthropologie sources theirs…

What about a Buddha?  A metal horse?  An elephant?  Not really our thing!

With a final admission that we’d really seen everything, we returned “home”, to a cool beer and a change of clothes.

Cochin is lovely and indeed, a shopper’s paradise in so many ways.  But once again, our mantra was the word of the day.

Enough.

A few of my favourite things

Arriving at new, exotic places.

Warm welcomes with drums, dancing, costumes.

Gorgeous textiles.  Silk, wool, cotton, all with the most exquisite designs.

The quirky and the slightly unusual.  The fact that I can enjoy looking at something without needing to bring it home!

The oddball store.  The one selling things made from sisal.

Spices.  The wonderful aroma when stepping into a spice market.

Hardware stores.  Places selling everyday things which aren’t quite the same as at home.

Displays of unremarkable things which somehow manage to achieve remarkable status in some way. 

Yes, those are buckets.  Plastic buckets.

So, time to reveal the purchases today, here in Cochin.

Three gorgeous shawls: a wool/silk blend (pink/grey weave) a patterned silk “pashmina”, a wool shawl with chain stitch embroidery over 99% of the surface.  A stone pendant in greens, greys, blues in a silver mount.  A variety of spices including two varieties of cinnamon, cardamom pods and mace.  Finally, a three-storey tiffin carrier, the bargain of the day at just 300 rp, less than £4 from the amazing hardware store where I could have spent all day.

Shopping complete, we’ll do the sightseeing bit tomorrow.

Other peoples’ laundry

We’re in Cochin now, the weather has cleared and we’ve had a fun afternoon out in the town with a couple of friends.  Before I reveal too much about the haul of treasures we brought back from the jewellery store, the shawl shop and so on, I thought I’d share what was probably the most interesting fifteen minutes of the afternoon.

We went to the Dhoby Ghat.  The Community Laundry.

This is Dhoby Street.  Pretty unpreposessing and much like many of the other streets in the area.  In the steel workshop by the pale green wall, a man was welding some cupboards together – there are some finished products out there on the pavement.  The red sign is for a ayurvedic medicine store and the bottles were all lined up on the shelf at the rear of the shop.  But behind this row of shop fronts lies a similarly constructed shed where the laundry is being done.

This young man was ironing, looking out of the window over the pathway and was smiling broadly until I asked if I may take his photograph, when he stood still and serious!  He was ironing with an electric iron with a huge soleplate, working his way through a whole heap of tablecloths and other flat linens.  You can see his “done” pile there, all neatly folded.

On the other side of the ironing workshop was this small woman who didn’t have the luxury of an electric iron but who was using this one heated by a small burner inside it.  She allowed me to pick it up and have a go – it weighed a ton and those small arms must be incredibly strong to be able to use it for any length of time.

The radio was on, tuned to an Indian pop station and the atmosphere was jolly if a little steamy!

All around were piles of clean washing, ready for ironing or for parcelling up for return to the owners.  The site foreman introduced himself to us (in the hope of a tip, we think) and explained that all laundry is completed and returned within a day.  Incredible.

Across the yard were about twenty of these washing rooms, each with a large sink, a stone for bashing the washing on and a tap with running water.  Whilst we were there, no-one was working, though a couple of the men were just returning to work after a short break.

Out in the garden, adjacent to these ghats, several lines had been strung up and a few lonely shirts were hanging out there, drying.

These two jolly chaps were in another corner, folding sheets.  I think these were the clean ones, being returned to their owners but as my doubt suggests, let’s simply say they had seen better days!  The chap in the foreground, wearing a lunghi was rather proud of his moustache and twirled it especially for his photograph!

As we thanked everyone for allowing us the privilege of watching them work, we left some rupees behind in the donation box (rather than just giving it to the foreman!) and waved goodbye.

The next load of washing had just arrived.

Later that same day…

We were back in the melee that is a city in this part of the world, though it was Sunday and the traffic was surprisingly light.

Watching people go about their daily business is always fascinating to me, and I could happily drive around for hours, just looking, observing, noticing.  Perhaps that’s as well, for we seemed to drive around in circles, passing the same recognisable buildings time and again.

There were many relics of the former British administration and the city is an interesting mix of faded glory and the here and now.

Though well tended and maintained, I felt the buildings had a slightly “lost” air to them, as if awaiting some new and exciting reincarnation.  Our guide explained that Sri Lanka has been passed over by tourists in recent years due to unsettling local events and security fears, but he hoped we will all return and bring our friends next time.

Having just passed the “Office of the Commission to Investigate Allegations of Bribery or Corruption” our driver was stopped at a police checkpoint and fined 1000rp for driving in the wrong lane.  Later, we hear that every vehicle was stopped at that point and fined the same charge.

Our next stop was Independence Square, site of the signing of the treaty in 1948.  We could see how the design of this building referenced the ruins in Polonnaruwa, especially the square pillars carved with beautiful designs.  It’s always good when something like that comes together, to make connections and join the dots.

From there, we drove to the former Prime Ministers house, now the National Museum.  It’s a lovely building in a lush green setting, though inside it was a little dusty and old fashioned.

Nevertheless, there were some lovely exhibits, some excellent explanations (of the moonstones and features of the temple doorways for example)

and we enjoyed just exploring the cool, shady rooms for an hour.

When we emerged into the sunlight again, we found a little welcome party!  The lads from the local Muslim school were out on a study visit and wanted to chat.  We shared the basic information about each other: “What is your name?” “Where are you from?” and so on, and giggled when one of them produced a stars and stripes hankie, waving it in the air.  Their conversation was charming, their ready smiles and genuine friendliness engaging and their teachers stood back and watched with pride as their young charges giggled and teased one another to overcome their shyness.

Whilst we were bantering with the lads, another little family stood quietly watching, amused at the hoohah going on in this quietest and most sedate of places.

Time to move right along then, past a cricket ground and

another cricket ground (note the post boxes!)  Our guide explained the rules of “village” cricket – including the interesting one which said that any passer by is automatically a member of the fielding team!

We crossed over a level crossing by a suburban railway station which looked oh so familiar – I’m sure I used to travel from a station of exactly that same design when I was a child!

Eventually, we arrived at the coast road and looked at that sky!  Fortunately, we were heading to another smart hotel for lunch and as we enjoyed another plateful of food (it just keeps coming!!) we watched the heavens open and the storm pass through.

By the time we have finished our meal, regrouped and driven to our next stop, the rain is over and taking our shoes and socks off to walk around a Hindu temple in the puddles was surprisingly refreshing!

As colourful and lavishly decorated as this morning’s stop, the Hindu traditions are represented in an altogether more graphic style.

Every square inch is decorated here, too, in every colour and hue imaginable.  The painting is exuberant, the figures ornate and full of character.  For the second time today, it was hard to know where to point my camera next and I took another hundred photographs…

I especially liked the small details, the dark corners and the overlooked parts down there at below knee level.

But I also loved the grand design; the overview too.  Look at that copper chimney rising through a hole in the roof.

The temple would normally be closed today but has been opened especially for us to look around, so there is no-one to disturb.  The monk who takes care of the temple is present and watches us gently as we ooh and aah at his treasure.

Thinking I’ve seen and absorbed as much as I can and noting my group gathering to leave, I take one final look upwards – this is what I see.  My reward?

The day is almost done except for the inevitable shopping stop, today at a “gems outlet”.  We’ve been warned that the best gems go for export, that it’s not advisable to buy unless we know exactly what we’re buying, but that doesn’t stop some!  Not in that league myself, I potter about wondering how many different interpretations of elephants we’ve seen in the last few days and succumb to two small batik elephant panels, probably to be made into a couple of little cushions when we’re home.

Lynn, I can understand how Sri Lanka captivates you.  We felt much the same and I feel sure that we will return before too long.  I hope the storms will hold off next time, though!

Mahabalipuram

Second World Heritage site of the day was Mahabalipuram, another Pallavan treasure, this time on the coast south of Chennai.  Once again, we had no idea what to expect, but enjoyed seeing daily life along the way.

This port of call has been much discussed here on board ship, where the pale coloured carpets have needed protection from the sooty air and tarry residues brought in on the soles of our shoes.  Chennai, like much of India, lacks a great deal in terms of what we in the privileged part of the world have come to take for granted, and I think it is a good thing to be reminded of how fortunate we are to be able to travel and see these things in a great deal of comfort.

During this afternoon’s journey, we were able to see the rice harvest above.  As we passed by in the comfort of an air conditioned vehicle, we watched men and women labour in the stifling temperatures, bringing in the harvest to make a meagre living.

It was from this same privileged position that I could observe the brickmakers, making what they could from this clay soil, working hard in what would, by our standards, be unsatisfactory conditions in every way.

These sellers of tyres, a vital part of this economy, must scrape by on what little they can make from selling part used goods.  For sure, it’s not the stuff that tourists want to see but I think it’s right to recognise that not everyone lives as we do; that a great deal of the world’s population exist in a totally different and in altogether less palatable conditions than we do, too.

Passing through this small community during the mid afternoon, I wondered what the “National Hair Style” could be?  Answers please!

Whilst I’m working that one out, have a look at another national monument, this time the rock which defies gravity and balances on a pivot.  Families were visiting this park and invitations to try to push the rock over the edge gladly taken, but clearly unsuccessful so far.

Just along the way lay the wondrous stone carving of the Pallavan dynasty, here at Mahabalipuram.   We stood for a while in the company of many local people, admiring the fine craftsmanship of this marvellously well-preserved work.

The trouble was, as we the privileged few, gazed on, the multitudinous poor chose to persist in their efforts to sell us carvings, beadwork, postcards and anything else they could think of. 

The local tourists were themselves besieged by these people, doing what they could to eke out some kind of a living from whatever source they could.

The same at the Shore Temple, where for twelve centuries, this masonry has withstood the battering of sea waves and the treachery of drifting sands.  Once inside the National Monument site, we were relieved of the pressure to buy things – anything – and the peace to look and simply observe in quiet awe was an overwhelming relief.

The situation of this temple was stunning, alongside a blue sky and sandy beach, it was remarkably different from anything we’ve seen in India on previous visits.

The sea breeze was a welcome relief from the heat, too.

As if we needed any reminder of our place in the “privileged few”, we stopped by the nearby Taj “Fishermans Cove” hotel for a late lunch.  Though we’d brought our swimming things, we chose to linger over a delicious lunch and savour the day so far.

Driving back along Beach Road Chennai, the people of the city were enjoying their after-work time at leisure with their friends and families on the beach.  Groups stood around, there were carousels on the ridge of the beach and this would go on until well after dark.

We, the privileged few, might have the material goods but don’t necessarily have the total monopoly on fun and pleasure, thank goodness!