Who brings a radio on safari?

Wednesday 11th June
Really not sure what day it is today. Had to check on my mobile several times.

Being a bit lazy, I agreed to my driver’s suggestion of taking the 9.30 safari boat at the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary (I was fairly sure there was one at 6.30, it says so in the LP, and that there’s a better chance of seeing animals then, but, well, I was just feeling lazy). So he picked me up at 8.15, to make the ticket counter opening at 8.30. We were there first, early, but some dude pushed in front of me (or was more attentive to the desk opening… whatever…) – and he bought 28 tickets! OMG! Was I even going to get a top deck ticket? Turned out ok, there were a number of boats.

In true Indian style, what seemed to be a well organised and ordered affair suddenly erupted into chaos after everyone was aboard. Something to do with there being several boats, and one boat being almost full and another one being almost empty. Somehow it all resolved itself without anyone actually changing to another boat, and we left.

Indians do not know how to be quiet! It wasn’t just the families, you have to expect some noise from kids, that’s what they do. But there were the raucous laughers. The mobile phone conversations. And the radio. Really, who brings a radio on a wildlife safari? So despite all the signs telling people to be quiet, we weren’t, really… Mind you, should I have been surprised, given the way the road rules are followed…

No Peters allowed

Most of the wildlife was a bit far off, but it was a very pleasant boat ride. We did see a cobra close up, some water buffalo as specks in the distance, a boar and some bison. Spotting the bison was very well done, in my opinion, as they were walking through deceptively high clumps of grass. I would have said the grass was only a foot or so high, but unless these were midget bison, it was a lot taller than that.

Midget bison or giant grass? ... you decide...

Having completed a lovely morning cruise, we went in search of a tea factory to inspect, which was both interesting and a bit disappointing, but in a good way.

Ended up at the Connemara factory, and they give free tours, no tipping please. So I had a personal escort through the factory, with about the same employee and visitor safety standards as the sugar factory I went through in Mauritius, ie, none.

But it was very interesting, the tea is dried upstairs on cool air driers for 14 hours before being sifted downstairs into a big mechanical chopper. Then the leaves are variously chopped, pulverised, sifted, dried, steamed, fermented, heated and sorted into different particle sizes. This is the slightly disappointing part – particles. None of that leaf tip, full leaf stuff, this is not Twinings. The factory creates pulverised tea molecules for teabags. And they have a number of different particle sizes, the largest (and therefore weakest flavour) is called Pekoe, and the rest have different names that I can’t remember, until you get to the finest grain, which is the strongest, and preferred by Indians. Which I can vouch for. With lots of milk and sugar. And strangely, as a non tea drinker, I don’t seem to mind. Perhaps the location makes a difference. I really loved Vietnamese coffee in Vietnam, but it’s not nearly as good when I make it at home (though not having the exact right ingredients could be a factor).

The rain started coming down, and just when I thought my day was about over, my driver asked if I wanted to go for an elephant ride. I’m slightly against elephant rides for the sake of it, I don’t mind the concept of doing a safari and actually going somewhere, but I figure doing endless laps of a small area must be boring for the poor elephant, and I don’t want to add to their misery. Assuming they are miserable doing laps with shrieky tourists on their backs.

Anyway, the Anavachal Road Elephant Camp (“Take Home a Trunkful of Memories”) was fine – the elephants looked healthy and happy (though not being an elephant expert, I could be wrong about the happy part). I allowed myself to be convinced to purchase the full package, including elephant ride through the plantation, feeding the elephants, elephant bath and shower, then logging demonstration.

So we went on our walk – mine was extended to go through the tribal jungle (er… village… er... whatever…). Imagine the excitement of a foreigner riding an elephant past a primary school at lunch time… in any country… There were shrieks and screaming and waving and running after the foreigner on her elephant. And then we went back past the school again – this time I had my camera ready, so added to all of the above there was the excitement of being photographed by a foreigner riding an elephant…

Elephant-riding-foreigner-induced primary school chaos

Fed a couple of elephants with these little sweet fried pastry things. They loved them! Not sure how good it is for them – do elephants have to watch their weight? One of them reminded me rather a lot of a dog I know, who would give an elephant a run for its money in the eating stakes. Turns out this elephant was pregnant – that’s about his league.

Then onto the elephant bathing. Giant pool, knee deep water. We (the mahouts and I) scrubbed her with pieces of coconut husk (the fibrous bit, not the shell, just like a scrubbing brush) – and she loved it. Totally. She just lay in the water like a giant goddess and accepted the tribute offered her. So that was the elephant bathing. I was invited then to participate in the elephant shower, ie I was to sit on her back whilst she showered me with her trunk. Apparently I’m being a bit of a wuss on this trip, so I declined, but she had her own ideas, and showered me anyway. Eh, it’s monsoon, I’ve been randomly wet several times already, and it’s not the first time I’ve encountered elephant snot on this trip…

A little more to the left, please

The logging demonstration was interesting – it was the elephant showing how she handles “here’s one I prepared earlier” logs – all directed by the mahout guiding her only with his feet. Very impressive. She rolled it with her trunk and feet, and then picked it up in her mouth, centering it for balance, and assisted with her trunk. Elephants are very smart.

Then I went for a wander around town, was not harassed to buy an onyx bracelet I tried on, found that the post office has an internet café (well, not so much a café, but internet access), decided not to purchase anything when a little old lady approached me with a selection of wicked looking knives, and checked out the prices of some spices. Thekkady is a nice little tourist town, unintimidating in exactly the way Munnar is not really.

My lazy day (as I had originally intended it to be) was finished off with two dance performances – the first a Kalaripparat martial arts display, which became increasingly impressive – the sword vs sword demonstration actually produced sparks. And there was uneven combat, eg knife vs piece of cloth (the piece of cloth dude won, swiftly hog tying knife dude, so someone else had to untie him so he could get up). And there is some yoga-esque element to it, one guy went through a set of exercises which culminated in him putting his legs behind his head.

Woke up with a kink in my neck

Then we zipped around the corner to see the Kathakali dance. It’s an old Hindu form of dance, and they started with an explanation of how the makeup is made (from grinding stones and mixing with coconut oil), to what the colours mean (green and white is good, black and red is bad) (I think). Then a demonstration of the acting forms used – facial expressions, etc, and a brief demonstration of the scene of a mother with her baby.

The eye roll

So on to the show. I was in the second row, and for some reason there was a fairly high concentration of small children in the region. All went well until the climax of the story, where the beautiful maiden revealed herself to be an evil hag, and both actors rushed repeatedly to the front of the small stage, shrieking … then there were a few more rather smaller people shrieking repeatedly…

The dance

Had a late dinner of paneer stuffed with dry nuts (well, there were cashews in the sauce, I think there was also some inside the cheese – in any case, it was delicious) and a Kingfisher beer. And a conversation about beer with one of the waiters. Because Fosters is everywhere, and once you say you’re Australian, you can talk about cricket and beer. And how long you’ve been in India, how much you like Kerala, and yes, you are travelling alone. It’s generally ok. And quite nice that most of the tourists I’ve seen are Indian families, not Westerners.

I have to say, that in the off-season, when the hotels are under-customered, one can be a little over-serviced. Perhaps also because I’m a female travelling by herself – every person I pass wants to have a chat. Which is all very well, but I don’t necessarily want to spend every spare minute being polite to people (outrageous!), and it’s not necessarily productive to wait until I have a mouth full of food before asking me how I’m enjoying my meal. And I haven’t decided yet if I like it when they fill my glass/plate the instant it’s looking a bit empty. I’m sure some people would like it (I’m thinking specifically of someone, here, you know who you are).

T-Shirt Of The Day:

Why you should never wear a t-shirt when you don't understand the language