After my second restless night's sleep, I jumped into the cold shower as today I was visiting the famous backwaters - a vast network of lagoons, lakes and narrow waterways taking up half of Kerala's coastline. There are more than 900km of waterways, which surround a cities, towns and endless amounts of villages.
As I hopped into the back of a dilapidated minibus, I was glad to meet other tourists and share their experiences of India - everyone has a story to tell.
A short bumpy ride away was a quiet, traditional backwater village and we all felt quite intrusive as we headed to the water's edge. After a relaxed cup of delicious chai (tea with Indian herbs and spices), we gathered onto a worn out boat where we were to spend four hours that morning.
We sailed through the chains of water, encountering local families and fishermen, who waved ferociously at us. For them, traveling the backwaters was a daily event and meant getting rice from the town, going to school, or fishing for survival.
Our tour guide, Shajas, who spoke immaculate English, explained how the majority of the islands were owned by wealthy farmers from the cities and many of the villagers were here as tenants. During the Monsoon, the water levels rise by up to 2 metres - and so some people are forced to leave their homes for drier ground.
Most of the land in the backwaters is dense with trees - mostly coconut. The villagers maintain a high level of self-sufficiency and I was truly impressed by their resourcefulness. After passing a hard-working man who was fishing for tiny clams (he threw a handful to our boat), our first stop helped us to understand the significance of these small little shelled creatures. My (very poor) scientific understanding is that they burn shells to create a form of calcium carbonate (a white powder), which could be used as fertiliser for their crops, as whitewash paint for their buildings and as a key ingredient in toothpaste and medicinal tablets. Scientists, shoot me now! We also tried 'toddy' here, made from the sap of coconut palms and can prove very toxic if left to ferment for too long (100 proof toxic! And perhaps the reason for the phrase "blind drunk" as we heard that some Indian alcoholics were turned blind from how much they drank). At 2%, even the babies and young children enjoyed it. It was very sweet tasting but most of us tried to hide our screwed up faces - yuck!
After enjoying a magical morning in the backwaters, we headed back for a traditional Keralan lunch, which I helped Shajas to serve (that would explain the rice on the floor, perhaps!). The main curry was fruity and spicy, accompanied by chillies, tasty carrots and tomatoes and other veggies - simply wonderful! I am not so fond of the local deserts though, which on this day was like rice pudding, but made with noodles, interesting.
We then headed for the canoes, which were to allow us down the narrow canals. Comically, and now I realise, typically, there were just 2 life-jackets for the group of 10. When I pointed and asked about them in amusement, our afternoon guide simply said "symbolic" - how we laughed!
We were punted along and it seemed a million miles away from the hustle and bustle of the mainland. We sauntered past children playing and washing in the water, some of whom held on to the canoe for a "lift please". We got up much closer to the villages and felt almost voyeuristic as we watched the local people do their chores.
We stopped to see the art of 'coir' making, by two aging women who were not at all phased by our presence. This was rope made by entwining fibres from the coconut tree using two large spinning wheels. The rope is used everywhere in Kerala, for everything!
That night I took another boat to the quieter town across the water.
As I hopped into the back of a dilapidated minibus, I was glad to meet other tourists and share their experiences of India - everyone has a story to tell.
A short bumpy ride away was a quiet, traditional backwater village and we all felt quite intrusive as we headed to the water's edge. After a relaxed cup of delicious chai (tea with Indian herbs and spices), we gathered onto a worn out boat where we were to spend four hours that morning.
We sailed through the chains of water, encountering local families and fishermen, who waved ferociously at us. For them, traveling the backwaters was a daily event and meant getting rice from the town, going to school, or fishing for survival.
Our tour guide, Shajas, who spoke immaculate English, explained how the majority of the islands were owned by wealthy farmers from the cities and many of the villagers were here as tenants. During the Monsoon, the water levels rise by up to 2 metres - and so some people are forced to leave their homes for drier ground.
Most of the land in the backwaters is dense with trees - mostly coconut. The villagers maintain a high level of self-sufficiency and I was truly impressed by their resourcefulness. After passing a hard-working man who was fishing for tiny clams (he threw a handful to our boat), our first stop helped us to understand the significance of these small little shelled creatures. My (very poor) scientific understanding is that they burn shells to create a form of calcium carbonate (a white powder), which could be used as fertiliser for their crops, as whitewash paint for their buildings and as a key ingredient in toothpaste and medicinal tablets. Scientists, shoot me now! We also tried 'toddy' here, made from the sap of coconut palms and can prove very toxic if left to ferment for too long (100 proof toxic! And perhaps the reason for the phrase "blind drunk" as we heard that some Indian alcoholics were turned blind from how much they drank). At 2%, even the babies and young children enjoyed it. It was very sweet tasting but most of us tried to hide our screwed up faces - yuck!
After enjoying a magical morning in the backwaters, we headed back for a traditional Keralan lunch, which I helped Shajas to serve (that would explain the rice on the floor, perhaps!). The main curry was fruity and spicy, accompanied by chillies, tasty carrots and tomatoes and other veggies - simply wonderful! I am not so fond of the local deserts though, which on this day was like rice pudding, but made with noodles, interesting.
We then headed for the canoes, which were to allow us down the narrow canals. Comically, and now I realise, typically, there were just 2 life-jackets for the group of 10. When I pointed and asked about them in amusement, our afternoon guide simply said "symbolic" - how we laughed!
We were punted along and it seemed a million miles away from the hustle and bustle of the mainland. We sauntered past children playing and washing in the water, some of whom held on to the canoe for a "lift please". We got up much closer to the villages and felt almost voyeuristic as we watched the local people do their chores.
We stopped to see the art of 'coir' making, by two aging women who were not at all phased by our presence. This was rope made by entwining fibres from the coconut tree using two large spinning wheels. The rope is used everywhere in Kerala, for everything!
That night I took another boat to the quieter town across the water.
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