in god's country

Kerala is described by the inhabitants as 'God's Country' (probably under the direction of the State Tourist Bureau) and the obvious influence of Catholic missionaries, the deeply beautiful natural environment, and the relaxed manners and easy smiles of the people have the effect of lulling one into a state of charmed agreement. Not that I'm agreeing to the existence of any of god's hands (2 or 6, take your pick) in the creation of this world but Kerala is a lovely place to drift, and the people's obvious pride in their home is justified... they often ask where else I've traveled in India and then sort of suggestively ask for a comparison between Kerala and the north, and when I say that Kerala is my favorite place so far they nod and smile in agreement as if it were obvious.

After the crush of pilgrims at the southern tip of India I made a quick escape to the cliff-side euro-touristy beach town of Varkala, Kerala for just a couple days in the sun, sand and surf before heading back out into India. Yes, Kerala is still India, but the beach towns are so full of foreigners fattening themselves on cheap seafood and beer and tanning their hides in the sand while locals hawk the same loose-fitting hippy-print clothing ("hello-sir/madame-please-you-come-look-my-shop-looking-is-free") that it sometimes doesn't feel like India. It is good though to have a break from the self-perpetuating movement of trains-buses-rickshaws and just stop for a few days, so I joined in the fat beach life.

I soon felt the pull of movement again and hopped a half-hour train ride up to Kollam to catch the 8-hour ferry ride through the backwaters up to Alleppey. The train ride was typical... by which I mean that after 5 minutes of climbing aboard I was once again surrounded by at least 10 19-year-old boys who just wanted to talk and be friends, and by the time I got off 30 minutes later one had his arm around me and another had kissed my cheek (both just signs of friendship and not a come-on... at least I think so?). The boat ride was slow and relaxing and a little boring, but a good way to see the canals and backwater life without paying huge sums for a private houseboat trip... I'd had enough of houseboats from my time in Kashmir, ugh. The canals aren't so much waterways cut through land as the opposite... a vast watery everglade cut by strips of reclaimed land shored up by stone walls and barely held together with palm trees. The thin strips of land are lined with small houses, gardens, cows, chickens, Chinese fishing nets, and schools served by boat landings.

The ferry landed in Alleppey at dusk to a rainstorm and I sloshed my way to a guest house without really knowing much about where I was except that it looked and smelled like little more than a town made up of a boat junk yard and an open sewer where the described "delightful leisurely shaded walks along green rimmed canals" were supposed to have been. The morning brought a different perspective and I did discover the lovely parts, along with a curious pervasive culture of organized socialism. The day I spent in Alleppey was a day of workers strikes from 6am until 6pm and almost everything was closed except an eatery behind a large gated door called the "Indian Coffee House" where funny fan-hatted waiters served masala dosas and chai tea in the front rooms and operated a coffee packaging and distribution collective in the back. The canals in town were lined with old state collective operations and workers union halls along with high-end guarded jewelry stores and the requisite sidewalk travel agents talking up good deals on houseboat tours... no thanks, I'm leaving in the morning to see some elephants and tigers in Perriyar Wildlife Sanctuary.