We left Wayanad on the 6th, heading down a ridiculously twisting mountain road towards Kochi (formerly Cochin). I'd heard a lot about Kochi, of course. First the Portuguese, then the Dutch and finally the Brits had colonised the area, but even before then Kochi had been a center of the spice trade, apparently going back to Roman times. Chinese fishing nets, large pulley-assisted fish trapping apparati, testifies to trade coming in from the east, while the oldest synagogue in India, claiming to have been founded in 359AD, testifies to western connections as well, but the biggest testimony to Kochi's place as a global crossroad, in my mind at least, is the fact that St Thomas (disciple, buddy of Jesus, and professional doubter) actually visited Kochi and set up a church here in 59AD. This church kept rolling along even after the rise of the Islamic Empire cut off India from western Christianity, until the Portuguese, presumably somewhat baffled to find a bunch of Christians living at the end if the world, tried to claim headship over them. It went over about as well as you would expect.
With all this history, and a whole city to walk around in, Emma and I were seriously looking forward to Kochi! But all the while, an enemy was gathering strength. This fiend, subtly but brilliantly, had been dogging our heels for weeks, but we were only now to realise the full extent of its power and influence. I speak, of course, of the Sun. *dramatic lightening flash* Our time in the mountains had been warm, no doubt. The lack of aircon had necessitated behavioral adaptations (night showers, constant battles over where to draw the line between having the fan be loud as sin and having it be effective at moving air, etc), but we had managed and even learned a thing or two in the process. We were ready. We were prepared.
We were wrong.
The heat here is something else again - omnipresent, sticky and wet. The sun is brutal too: the one day I didn't slather myself in sunblock I got nastily burnt on the back of my neck and on arms as well. Pools help, but only when the sun hasn't boiled them above body temperature, which usually happens by 2pm. And this in the dead of winter: I cannot even begin to imagine what summer involves, or how people survive. Our hotel in Ernakulam (across the bay from Kochi) had no airflow, no aircon, and the loudest fan in Christendom. Since nighttime temperature dropped maybe to the mid 80s, neither of us slept very well, and both nights you could see Dragoman refugees sitting in the lobby (the only air conditioned room in the hotel) until the wee hours. I may be a little tiny baby when it comes to heat, but by God I wasn't the only one.
Kochi itself was cool, if a bit underwhelming. Partly, this is because we're seeing it a month in, after the Taj, Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur, Ratkore Temple and Udaipur: the most impressive mausoleum, fort, temple and city in India, respectively. We did visit the old Synagogue (probably not actually founded in 359CE as per the claims) - the inside was beautiful, but no photography was allowed. Vee, an Israeli-Ozzy member of the tour, helped me translate some of the Hebrew inscriptions, and it was amazing to see evidence of Kochi's strikingly cosmopolitan past. One easy mistake to make about India is to see it as Terra Incognita between Alexander's invasion and the Portuguese incursions; in reality, it was precisely Kochi's links to global trading networks that made it worthwhile for the Portuguese to start seizing bits of territory along the way to the spice islands.
The cultural highlight was seeing a demonstration of Kathakali dancing - a 400 year old art form that looks suspiciously like Japanese Kabuki, and that mixes incredibly finely crafted facial expressions with body movement, drumming and singing to tell 9-hour-long stories of gods and demons from Hindu mythology. We got a 2 hour introduction and sample, and while several of our fellow travellers left early, having severe cases of philistinism, we really enjoyed it. The makeup alone was worth the price of admission, and the quick change, when the beautiful lady transformed into a wicked demoness (both played by a man in drag, of course) was suitably impressive. The Japanese children's tour group was remarkably well behaved - that is, the children were. Their adults, on the other hand were apparently keeping up a running commentary and discussion group in the back row, enough to cause the fair maiden on stage to give them an impressively crafted stink eye.
We walked around the city the next day, ate a lovely lunch at Fusion Bay with Vincent (the gigantic Belgian) and Emily (the lovely Ozzy), and wandered through the backstreets during the afternoon call to prayer back towards the ferry to Ernakulam
We quickly realised that all this walking, while normally healthy and informative, was closing in on lethal, and we hightailed it to a severely Western-style shopping mall to bask in the air-conditioning and catch the 7:30 showing of Spotlight, this year's Best Picture winner, about the Boston Globe's uncovering of the sex abuse scandal among Catholic clergy in the city. The investigation started off a mass revelation in city after city, state after state, and country after country of similar horrors, all predicated on the higher ups deliberately concealing, protecting and shuffling to new dioceses abusive priests. The effects on the Church's moral authority are obvious, and are a big reason that someone like Francis could end up Pope - the conservative wing was too heavily tainted with scandal to even allow Ratzinger (ex-Pope Benedict) to remain in office much less keep control of the institution. As we walked out, stunned and angry, Emma asked me what the Church has actually done to keep this from happening again, and the answer is, of course, I don't know.
Dad was a priest, before he met and married my mom, and I grew up with a strong but critical relationship with the institution. One of the best things my Dad did for me was to explain that the Church isn't just the Pope, or the bishops, it was the laity as well - wrongdoing by the higher ups doesn't destroy the institution any more than criminal politicians destroy my faith in democracy. All it means is that the people on the bottom need to reclaim and reform and purge the corrupt when necessary. Because when the higher ups won't allow that necessary action, that's what weakens and strains and breaks the institution. Like Watergate - it's less the offence than the cover-up. And seriously, Cardinal Law should have been thrown in jail.
On our way back, we decided to take a Tuk-Tuk, as a special treat. Sadly, the Tuk-Tuk drivers who mobbed the mall entrance were not only dishonest crooks, they were incompetent at being dishonest crooks. They stood around as a group, baffled by our map of the city, swearing up and down that our hotel .5 km up the road was in fact on another island, and 50km away, and would cost us at least R400 to get there. I can handle crooks - crooks want money, and a good crook at least has to win for you to lose. When I was pickpocketed on a train to Budapest, while sleeping and with my wallet in my jeans and my jeans still on my legs, the thief not only didn't wake me, he took the cash and left the cards. With talent like that, it's hard not to be appreciative. A lifetime of movie con-artists has taught me that professional criminals have a certain claim to Honour. It's crooked idiots I cannot abide. Obviously, we walked.
We left Kochi the next day, headed to Alleppey for a night on a houseboat to cruise the backwaters of Kerala. As for how that went, I'll leave that story to Emma...
With all this history, and a whole city to walk around in, Emma and I were seriously looking forward to Kochi! But all the while, an enemy was gathering strength. This fiend, subtly but brilliantly, had been dogging our heels for weeks, but we were only now to realise the full extent of its power and influence. I speak, of course, of the Sun. *dramatic lightening flash* Our time in the mountains had been warm, no doubt. The lack of aircon had necessitated behavioral adaptations (night showers, constant battles over where to draw the line between having the fan be loud as sin and having it be effective at moving air, etc), but we had managed and even learned a thing or two in the process. We were ready. We were prepared.
We were wrong.
The heat here is something else again - omnipresent, sticky and wet. The sun is brutal too: the one day I didn't slather myself in sunblock I got nastily burnt on the back of my neck and on arms as well. Pools help, but only when the sun hasn't boiled them above body temperature, which usually happens by 2pm. And this in the dead of winter: I cannot even begin to imagine what summer involves, or how people survive. Our hotel in Ernakulam (across the bay from Kochi) had no airflow, no aircon, and the loudest fan in Christendom. Since nighttime temperature dropped maybe to the mid 80s, neither of us slept very well, and both nights you could see Dragoman refugees sitting in the lobby (the only air conditioned room in the hotel) until the wee hours. I may be a little tiny baby when it comes to heat, but by God I wasn't the only one.
Kochi itself was cool, if a bit underwhelming. Partly, this is because we're seeing it a month in, after the Taj, Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur, Ratkore Temple and Udaipur: the most impressive mausoleum, fort, temple and city in India, respectively. We did visit the old Synagogue (probably not actually founded in 359CE as per the claims) - the inside was beautiful, but no photography was allowed. Vee, an Israeli-Ozzy member of the tour, helped me translate some of the Hebrew inscriptions, and it was amazing to see evidence of Kochi's strikingly cosmopolitan past. One easy mistake to make about India is to see it as Terra Incognita between Alexander's invasion and the Portuguese incursions; in reality, it was precisely Kochi's links to global trading networks that made it worthwhile for the Portuguese to start seizing bits of territory along the way to the spice islands.
The cultural highlight was seeing a demonstration of Kathakali dancing - a 400 year old art form that looks suspiciously like Japanese Kabuki, and that mixes incredibly finely crafted facial expressions with body movement, drumming and singing to tell 9-hour-long stories of gods and demons from Hindu mythology. We got a 2 hour introduction and sample, and while several of our fellow travellers left early, having severe cases of philistinism, we really enjoyed it. The makeup alone was worth the price of admission, and the quick change, when the beautiful lady transformed into a wicked demoness (both played by a man in drag, of course) was suitably impressive. The Japanese children's tour group was remarkably well behaved - that is, the children were. Their adults, on the other hand were apparently keeping up a running commentary and discussion group in the back row, enough to cause the fair maiden on stage to give them an impressively crafted stink eye.
We walked around the city the next day, ate a lovely lunch at Fusion Bay with Vincent (the gigantic Belgian) and Emily (the lovely Ozzy), and wandered through the backstreets during the afternoon call to prayer back towards the ferry to Ernakulam
We quickly realised that all this walking, while normally healthy and informative, was closing in on lethal, and we hightailed it to a severely Western-style shopping mall to bask in the air-conditioning and catch the 7:30 showing of Spotlight, this year's Best Picture winner, about the Boston Globe's uncovering of the sex abuse scandal among Catholic clergy in the city. The investigation started off a mass revelation in city after city, state after state, and country after country of similar horrors, all predicated on the higher ups deliberately concealing, protecting and shuffling to new dioceses abusive priests. The effects on the Church's moral authority are obvious, and are a big reason that someone like Francis could end up Pope - the conservative wing was too heavily tainted with scandal to even allow Ratzinger (ex-Pope Benedict) to remain in office much less keep control of the institution. As we walked out, stunned and angry, Emma asked me what the Church has actually done to keep this from happening again, and the answer is, of course, I don't know.Dad was a priest, before he met and married my mom, and I grew up with a strong but critical relationship with the institution. One of the best things my Dad did for me was to explain that the Church isn't just the Pope, or the bishops, it was the laity as well - wrongdoing by the higher ups doesn't destroy the institution any more than criminal politicians destroy my faith in democracy. All it means is that the people on the bottom need to reclaim and reform and purge the corrupt when necessary. Because when the higher ups won't allow that necessary action, that's what weakens and strains and breaks the institution. Like Watergate - it's less the offence than the cover-up. And seriously, Cardinal Law should have been thrown in jail.
On our way back, we decided to take a Tuk-Tuk, as a special treat. Sadly, the Tuk-Tuk drivers who mobbed the mall entrance were not only dishonest crooks, they were incompetent at being dishonest crooks. They stood around as a group, baffled by our map of the city, swearing up and down that our hotel .5 km up the road was in fact on another island, and 50km away, and would cost us at least R400 to get there. I can handle crooks - crooks want money, and a good crook at least has to win for you to lose. When I was pickpocketed on a train to Budapest, while sleeping and with my wallet in my jeans and my jeans still on my legs, the thief not only didn't wake me, he took the cash and left the cards. With talent like that, it's hard not to be appreciative. A lifetime of movie con-artists has taught me that professional criminals have a certain claim to Honour. It's crooked idiots I cannot abide. Obviously, we walked.
We left Kochi the next day, headed to Alleppey for a night on a houseboat to cruise the backwaters of Kerala. As for how that went, I'll leave that story to Emma...
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