india4

A SIDE TRIP TO COCHIN

Xmas was on Wednesday. On Monday, we got away from it all and flew to Cochin. We took a cab (by now we had a pet driver) to the airport. Cochin is in the state of Kerala, and is south of where we were. The flight was about an hour. By now, I was accustomed to the drill at Indian airports-the separate x-ray of the checked and unchecked bags, the tags you have to put on your cabin baggage, the security check stage, where they x-ray and stamp your cabin baggage and scan you with a metal detector, and the armed guard leaning on his rifle near the plane. This time they did not have the engine apart but someone was leaning a clip board on the jet engine intake and writing something. We miss a lot going through those airplane access tubes in the US. We had called ahead for a reservation at the Hotel Bharat (means India) aka the Bharat Tourist Home. We took a pre-paid cab there. The pre-paid cab is an airport institution which helps prevent the fleecing of tourists. You go to the pre-pay stand, tell them where you want to go, tell them your name and they give you the price and write your name and destination down as well as giving you a slip of paper. Then, as you leave the airport, the driver gives your name and destination to someone in a booth and they check you off. I think it was 80 rupees to the Hotel. We chose an air-con room for 800 rupees ($24). It was absolutely lovely! The shape kind of curved around so that the door opened to a sitting room and then you walked around a corner to the bedroom (king-sized dual bed again) and then continued and went up a step to the bathroom. The floors were polished red marble, everything worked and was clean. Room service from the restaurant below was cheap and prompt. What was interesting was that when you entered the room you put your key holder into a special holder that turned on the power to the room, including the AC, when you left, it went off. We really appreciated this shot of luxury, although I was exhausted and had a terrible sore throat that was so bad that I couldn't sleep. We did rest for awhile, then headed out to do Cochin.

A Jewish Synagogue in India

The Communist part is the ruling party in Kerala and because of that it has a much better social support system than any other state. Supposedly there is less poverty here, although it seemed as hot, dirty and overcrowded as any other place I had been. We decided to hire a car and driver, which was a great idea, for 60 rupees per hour. We asked him to take us to the synagogue. Cochin has a old Jewish community whose origin dates back to the destruction of the second temple in Jerusalem, and got an infusion of people after the Jews left Spain. The original community was somewhere else but moved to Cochin. The synagogue dates from 1558, but the building as it stands was built in 1664. Actually, most of Cochin's Jews have gone to Israel but there are still, according to the guide, 8 families in Cochin who look after the synagogue. They are very orthodox and there is a separate women's section but no rabbi, so every male is empowered to perform rabbinical functions. It was a very powerful experience for me, although I haven't had time to analyze why. Somehow, in the middle of India, to have someone ask me if I am Jewish and then to say "Shalom" to me blew me away, like I had some real connection to these people and this place. We got the tour and took a lot of pictures and bought some postcards. I have been reading Salmon Rushdee's book "The Moor's Last Sigh" which partly takes place in this synagogue with its hundreds of hand-painted blue floor tiles and dozens of Belgian chandeliers. Because of that I felt like I almost knew the place. (I have to get another copy of the book to finish it, Chrissie spotted it and I left it for him).

Touring Jewtown The area is called Jewtown and the narrow lane leading to the synagogue is filled with small shops. Mostly they were antique shops but also this is the center of the spice trade, and there was shop after shop in the neighborhood filled with bags and piles of spices and ginger. It felt uncomfortable to walk past the antiques and tourist shops and to feel like there was so much pressure to buy things. Nearby, there was a famous Hindu temple located in what is called the Dutch Palace. The Dutch palace or Mattancherry Palace, was built by the Portuguese in 1557 and presented to the Raja of Cochin as a goodwill gesture. The coronation hall of the Raja's is also in this building. The synagogue is located near the palace because the Raja of Cochin offered protection to the Jewish community after they were driven from their former home in Craganore, north of Cochin. Even now, it is said, Jews are nervous about being in Craganore and hasten to leave the place before sundown.

We took off our shoes to enter the Hindu temple, and went in to look around but were chased off and told that it was closed 'til puja at 5 PM. We put our shoes back on and went to the palace itself. The palace is famous for its murals but I was so hot and tired that it was hard to put out the effort to study them. We did look closely at some delightful erotic murals involving Krishna and some happy-looking female companions in a basement area which was the ladies bed chamber. I think a lot of the rest were of battle scenes. They were old and darkened and very complex, and reminded me, the their complexity, of the carvings at Chichen-Itza.

After we went through the palace, we walked around outside a little bit. Vally pointed out the large, cement lined pond with high walls behind the temple. Although we could not see them very well, it was clear that the men of the temple use this pond for bathing and washing their clothing. We wandered back to our cab, stopping at an antique shop which was probably overpriced but we had no way to know, and buying some straw sun hats which probably didn't help us feel less hot. I also picked up two long pleated Indian skirts, similar in style to the one that I was already wearing which had made a round trip from India to the US and back.

A "Good" Vegetarian Restaurant in Cochin

We got back to the cab and asked the driver to take us to a "good" restaurant. The driver's English was limited and Vally doesn't speak Malyalam, the language of Kerala, so something may have been lost in the translation. Also, I had forgotten that the guide book had said that there wasn't much in the way of restaurants in Cochin City, most of the action being found in Ernakulum where our hotel was. Our driver took us to a local joint. I would be surprised if more than two tourists ate there in any given year. It was a traditional Udipi restaurant, all you can eat for about 45 cents. Vally looked around and sort of blanched. "We don't have to eat here" he said. I did a quick mental calculation. If we weren't going to wind up getting sick, then it was going to be worth the experience. We went for it. Here's the basic set up. Lots of tables, all communal, although we found a small empty table off to the side. I was the only female in the place, probably not that many Ph.D.s in there either. Front open to the street. Kitchen in the back, behind a half wall. Bunch of sweating men cooking away over, I guess charcoal fires. Line of slightly grubby sinks across the back. Overhead fans. The restaurant serves only thali's, which, if you've never had one, in an indian restaurant, and I haven't explained it yet, is a round steel plate with a bunch of small round steel bowls inside containing different dishes, like bits of soup or vegetables. Some Indian pickle is put on the plate and there is a mound of rice in the middle and often some puris (fried, puffed tortilla-like breads) and a pappad or two (very crisp, brittle somewhat spicy tortilla-like Indian bread). In this restaurant, the plate came with the remains of the dishwater on it and the rice was served directly at the table. The waiter carried a large, stainless steel bowl of cooked rice and used a small steel plate to scoop up the rice and serve it. His arm was probably sunk to about the wrist in the rice. Similarly, extra puris were brought on a tray and dropped unceremoniously on the thali plate by the waiter's fingers. Refills on any of the small dishes are available from a ladle which is carried in a steel pail. You could tell what is in the pail by what is dripping over the side. Because of the fans, there weren't that many flies. The food was good, however and we didn't drink the water. We were the only ones eating with utensils in the whole place.

After lunch, I wanted a lassi and Vally was also thirsty, so the driver took us up the road to an equally "local" place where for 18 cents each we had our drinks. None of these places appears to have running water, so you get to watch the owner carefully rinse your glass and the items he uses to prepare you drink in a basin of take-it-on-faith water. Vally had freshly prepared grape juice.

The Rest of the Cochin Tour In Cochin, we also saw the beautiful Chinese fishing nets, as we fought off vendors and wound up bargaining for some flutes, including the kind used by snake charmers. They are actually pretty interesting and simple-at the narrow end of a dried gourd there is a hole to blow in. At the wide end, two bamboo flutes are fitted and held in with sealing wax. One flute has holes in it for playing and the other acts as a fixed-tone drone. Vally is a ruthless bargainer and I feel sorry for the vendors who go against him-on the other hand, they are Indians and they expect it. It becomes a matter of "I really don't want to buy anything from you, but you won't go away, so I will offer you a ridiculously low price for whatever you are selling." Then the game starts in earnest, and it isn't over until you get into the cab, roll up the window and drive away. Khatikali Dancers We finished the tour with some very old churches, including the one where Vasco Da Gama was buried for 15 years before being moved to Portugal, then we went back to the hotel for a rest. We asked the driver to come back and pick us up in time to see the Khatikali dancers. Khatikali is a very old Hindu storytelling art form. It takes about 15 years of training to master its intricacies. We arrived at the perfect time and, literally, had front row seats. The first 45 minutes we watched the two males dancers put on their thick, colorful makeup. It was later explained that the makeup is made out of natural substances, with a coconut oil base and things like turmeric and burnt coconut oil for color. The colors were vivid, like a Hindu painting. One of the dancers also had a paper sculpture in three layers attached to his face which looked like a very abstract beard. Their costumes were wildly colorful and larger than life. One played a king, the other played a demoness who wanted the king for herself so she turned herself into a beautiful maiden and attempted to seduce him. When, despite all of her attempts, he would not succumb, she turns back into a demoness and they fight and the king is victorious. There are over 100 stories that are danced out in Khatikali, and the people for whom they are intended are fully familiar with the plots. Khatikali also has an alphabet and danced out symbols for over 800 words, sort of like sign language, I think, except it can take 15 seconds to dance out a work life "grief" or "jealously." Before the performance, the director, for whom English is not the primary language, came out and spoke to us about Hinduisin 3 minutes) and the dance itself. His accent was very strange, unlike anything I've ever heard, but understandable. Here is his synopsis of Hinduism. God is divided up into 3 departments: beginnings (Brahma), continuations (Shiva) and endings (Vishnu). Beyond that it is totally open for interpretation-hence the many gods and goddesses which reflect different people's interpretations. He said that Hinduism emphasizes beauty and creativity and that everything can be taken on the literal level, which is "religion" or can be seen in terms of its deeper meaning "philosophy." He gave a lot of examples of religion vs. philosophy, and, of course this applied to the dance itself.

The surroundings were modest, a wooden stage, wooden chair and a dirt floor. They burned mosquito coils. Power failed partway through the makeup stage which was finished by candlelight, and it got a little stuffy, but power returned in time for the performance. Most of the audience of about 75 were foreign tourists, including a little English boy of about 5 who was very bored by the preliminaries and kept pleading to get out of there. When the dance actually started though I am sure he was as hypnotized as the rest of us. They asked everyone to sign a guest book, and the admission was 100 rupees.

Our cab was waiting and we returned to the hotel. We ate dinner in the hotel restaurant, which was excellent. Again, most of the people ate with their hands. I had kulfi ice cream, which was pistachio subtly flavored with cardamon and probably ginger. It was wonderful. After dinner they put an aluminum cup of a warm, slightly rusty-colored liquid on our table. We had no idea what it was-it didn't have much of an identifiable odor. Vally tried drinking it, but later we saw some people using it to wash their hand, so we thought maybe it wasn't for drinking. Much later in the trip, someone told us it was gira (cumin) water), served as an aid to digestion.

Despite the wonderful surroundings, I had a hard time sleeping because my throat was so swollen. We had room service breakfast with chai and got ready to go. After we got downstairs, however, we realized that we had about 45 minutes before we had to leave for the airport. Rather than spend that time at the airport we decided to walk around Cochin. As I have probably said, just walking around is not easy in India, because the roads and sidewalks are so crowded, where there are sidewalks and its so hot and dusty, but we tried it anyway. First we went next door to the Air India office which was air-conditioned, and confirmed that our flight to Agra (the Taj Mahal) was still suspended. Then we walked to a shopping district. After a couple of utterly terrifying street crossings, where vehicles came at me and I froze instead of forcing the vehicles to stop for me, I was glad to go back. Close to hotel, we passed a modern office-type building with a large, low-ceilinged interior courtyard. There were a lot of people in there and we sensed that something was going on. Just inside the door, a man was giving out flyers for a "Computerised Matrimonial Databank." There was a door leading to a large hall just beyond the courtyard and we could see rows of grey metal folding chairs inside, and we could hear Indian music on the PA system. We went in to see what everyone was looking at, and suddenly we were at a Hindu wedding. At the front of the very drab hall was a most beautiful, flower-bedecked altar and the ceremony was drawing to a close with members of the family lining up to spoon something, presumably sweet into the mouths of the newlyweds who were, as I remember it, sitting on their heels on the altar. In front of the altar was a table, also incredibly decorated with bright flowers and food. No one seemed to mind that we were there. This was not Vally's first Hindu wedding, and when he noticed the crowd starting to drift out a door on the wall opposite the entrance, he said "Do you want to see the food?" So we went out to a small, equally drab concrete hall and beyond that was another large hall filled with lines and lines of long, narrow tables, already partially occupied. In front were vats of food, and the food was being scooped onto sections of green banana leaves which served as disposable plates. A man invited us to join them, which really felt nice. We were seriously tempted but had only 15 minutes left before we had to leave for the airport.