The last few days have been so supremely relaxing, you'll forgive us for only just now catching up on the blog. This is Em typing now, and though there's plenty to relate, don't expect the length, political insight or historical detail of Patrick's last two entries.
He left off with us departing the heat and incompetent Tuk-Tuk drivers of Kochi for the backwaters of Alleppey. Three beautiful houseboats awaited our merry group and we jumped on board with fellow Brit Julia (don't tell the others, but she's my favourite of the newbies who joined the truck in Mumbai), Aussie nurse Emily (one of the brave few doing the full Kathmandu to Kathmandu circuit) and our leader\driver team of Laura and Dutchie. The next ~20 hours were near-perfection. The boat had 3 en-suite twin rooms and a lovely covered deck, furnished with a dining table and 6 chairs, a divan and two armchairs, from which to enjoy the views in shaded comfort. As we drifted down a fraction of the 900km of Kerala's waterways, I felt only the gentlest of rocking, which at one point in the afternoon sent me into the deepest sleep I'd had in days, whilst lounging on the deck's sofa. Alleppey's backwaters seem to hold an infinity of coconut-laden palm trees and enough banana trees to form a republic (and keep the Bluth family in their millions, because as we all know, there's always money in the banana tree stand). The greatest moment of excitement came when a bird swooped past the captain, flew through the deck straight past Patrick's face, and dropped a piece of fish right next to him. Along with sacred rats scurrying across his feet and the cow nuzzling him in Jaisalmer, this is going on the list of fortuitous animal encounters.
The lush surroundings are home to many more people than I expected - who must at some point eventually become bored with having Paradise for a front garden. We glided past ladies scrubbing clothes in the river at the base of their front steps, a group of boys playing cricket in a rare bit of land more solid than a rice paddy, fishermen who'd jumped out of their canoes to cool off in the river, and even a Catholic school on the shore (whose ornamentation included a popish looking saint shaded by a lotus flower). One enterprising local saw our approach and sped over in his motorboat to sell much-needed ice cream to us over the side!
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At dinner time, the three boats drew up next to each other, allowing us to leap between. We sort of traded Dutchie for Vincent (who was on the Aussie men's boat) in order to play Monopoly cards. Our bug spray tried valiantly to keep the mosquitoes at bay, but it was comforting to see a veritable army of geckoes literally come crawling out the woodwork of the boat to grow fat on all the flying beasties drawn to our lights. Eventually humidity and bugs sent us all to our respective cabins, where we were delighted to discover the aircon had been switched on (though less delighted when we were all freezing several hours into the night, when we realised we couldn't adjust the 19 degree setting). How temperamental our bodies are! Extremes of temperature aside, the cabin was comfy and I slept wonderfully. We had a short post-breakfast sail the next morning to bring us back to the starting point and we were in Varkala by lunch time.
I'm not great at relaxing - I'd rather do anything than lie around on a beach - but many days on this trip are teaching me the beauty and necessity of relaxing. It was perfect on the boat to just switch between staring at miles of palm trees gliding past, reading (loving the Nigerian novel I'm on at the moment, Half of a Yellow Sun), watching kingfisher birds dart into the water, getting a few postcards written, and moving from railing-side padded benches to divan to dining chair to armchair, sometimes just sitting quietly holding Patrick's hand and marvelling at how different our life is now than a year, or even a few months ago. For 5+ years, springtime Tuesdays used to signify hours of faculty, staff and student meetings, resulting in suddenly elongated to-do lists - what a magnificently deliciously different way to spend a Tuesday.
And all that before we even got to the delights of Varkala.
He left off with us departing the heat and incompetent Tuk-Tuk drivers of Kochi for the backwaters of Alleppey. Three beautiful houseboats awaited our merry group and we jumped on board with fellow Brit Julia (don't tell the others, but she's my favourite of the newbies who joined the truck in Mumbai), Aussie nurse Emily (one of the brave few doing the full Kathmandu to Kathmandu circuit) and our leader\driver team of Laura and Dutchie. The next ~20 hours were near-perfection. The boat had 3 en-suite twin rooms and a lovely covered deck, furnished with a dining table and 6 chairs, a divan and two armchairs, from which to enjoy the views in shaded comfort. As we drifted down a fraction of the 900km of Kerala's waterways, I felt only the gentlest of rocking, which at one point in the afternoon sent me into the deepest sleep I'd had in days, whilst lounging on the deck's sofa. Alleppey's backwaters seem to hold an infinity of coconut-laden palm trees and enough banana trees to form a republic (and keep the Bluth family in their millions, because as we all know, there's always money in the banana tree stand). The greatest moment of excitement came when a bird swooped past the captain, flew through the deck straight past Patrick's face, and dropped a piece of fish right next to him. Along with sacred rats scurrying across his feet and the cow nuzzling him in Jaisalmer, this is going on the list of fortuitous animal encounters.The lush surroundings are home to many more people than I expected - who must at some point eventually become bored with having Paradise for a front garden. We glided past ladies scrubbing clothes in the river at the base of their front steps, a group of boys playing cricket in a rare bit of land more solid than a rice paddy, fishermen who'd jumped out of their canoes to cool off in the river, and even a Catholic school on the shore (whose ornamentation included a popish looking saint shaded by a lotus flower). One enterprising local saw our approach and sped over in his motorboat to sell much-needed ice cream to us over the side!
. 
Another stop allowed interested parties to buy fresh seafood - Julia brought some prawns on board for our boat's cook to fry up for her dinner. Houseboats are clearly big business for the surrounding communities. We saw a couple more houseboats silently pass with western passengers aboard, but it's clearly also a popular pursuit for Indian holidaymakers, as far more boats passed us booming with Hindi pop and cheering groups of men jumping and dancing, fully enjoying their booze cruises. Our more serene journey moored at lunch time for the first of three huge and spectacular meals.
I'm not great at relaxing - I'd rather do anything than lie around on a beach - but many days on this trip are teaching me the beauty and necessity of relaxing. It was perfect on the boat to just switch between staring at miles of palm trees gliding past, reading (loving the Nigerian novel I'm on at the moment, Half of a Yellow Sun), watching kingfisher birds dart into the water, getting a few postcards written, and moving from railing-side padded benches to divan to dining chair to armchair, sometimes just sitting quietly holding Patrick's hand and marvelling at how different our life is now than a year, or even a few months ago. For 5+ years, springtime Tuesdays used to signify hours of faculty, staff and student meetings, resulting in suddenly elongated to-do lists - what a magnificently deliciously different way to spend a Tuesday.
And all that before we even got to the delights of Varkala.
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