The Friday early morning public bus trip reminded me how glad I am that the western travel standard is so much higher than in India. I sat in the window seat of a row of two seats that I shared with two other people on the six and a half hour trip. It was great to have a seat though, because the bus was packed full of people and it was really hot outside. In addition to the sunburn that I got on my arm that was next to the open window, I also had bruises on both of my knees that were pressed up against the seat in front of me (I think the average height here is much shorter than I am tall). Also, it remains unclear to me just why exactly i kept finding that same arm next to the window wet every so often. I think I'll let that mystery remain unsolved. Despite the dismal trip though, our group of seven was all still excited to see the southernmost point in India.
After an overpriced lunch and having discovering an underpriced hotel, we went on a walk down the streets crowded with shops and Indian men trying to sell us little trinkets.
We reached the square just above the ocean and split up into groups of two to walk down through the crowds of people all getting a souvenir or trying to take a picture of the same geographical landmark that we were there for. Brittany from Canada and I walked under an ancient stone pavillion and down some steps that led right into the ocean. An old woman who was trying to sell us hair pins put down all her things to make sure that we made it down the steps safely, since they were surprisingly slimy with seaweed. We stood in what felt like a gateway to the ocean and listened to this woman, Gita, tell us in broken English about the tsunami in 2004. She pointed out to a statue on an island just maybe a quarter mile away that can best be described as a standing Indian version of the Statue of Liberty (I promise to post a picture of it eventually, since my description can't really do I justice). She was able to get across that the wave went really high up on
the statue and came roaring over the vendors in the marketplace, over the tourists, and into the city. I think she was also trying to show us a scar that she had on her arm from falling on the rocks as she tried to run from the wave. Even though her English was not great, it was still really amazing to look out over the calm ocean that lay before us with a woman who had seen and survived such devastation and try to imagine what it would have been like to stand paralyzed on the beach as the killer wave came at full speed toward the shore. The monument for those who died in the disaster nearby was small and we actually almost missed it as we walked by, but it certainly served as a reminder.
We walked back into town and detoured to see an old Portuguese cathedral. When we walked out, we must have taken a wrong turn somewhere that somehow led us onto a rocky pier that extended out into the ocean. From there, we watched the sun setting to our west, over the Arabian Sea. Kanniyakumari also happens to be the geographical meeting point for three bodies of water, the Arabian Sea to the west, Indian Ocean to the south, and the Bay of Bengal to the east. After a somewhat unsatisfying dinner of "french fries" and 7-Up, we watched Brazil and Portugal tie a World Cup match and then went to bed.
At 5 in the morning on Saturday, I woke up to the alarm that I had set the night before after a recommendation from both the Lonely Planet book and the hotel manager to see the sunrise. Not surprisingly, only Alison and Brittany woke up to join me on a walk in the dark back down to the same rocky pier that we had watched the sunset from the night before. As we sat on the rocks just above the crashing waves below and stared up at the sky that was just beginning to leak pink and gold streaks from the east, I couldn't help but feel like I was in the world's biggest IMAX theater, the roundness of the sky stretching from the shores of a far off distant island in the east over to the fishing boats heading west into nothingness. It was the most spectacular sunrise I have ever seen, and we stayed to watch for over an hour and a half until the sky was fully lit and we were to hungry and tired to stay any longer. After a dosa breakfast with some tea in the hotel
restaurant (which I think might be a redundant phrase here, since almost all restaurants have the prefix "hotel" for a reason that I don't totally understand), we woke everyone else up and packed up our things to go to Kovalam.
We were minorly detoured and panicked at the Kanniyakumari bus station when a taxi driver informed us that the ghost town appearance of the bus station was due to a bus driver strike that had just began that morning, and that public buses in and out of the area were not running. Somehow though, we managed to locate the train station and get there in 10 minutes, just in time to catch the only train of the day to Trivanduram, where we could take a reasonably priced rickshaw from to the southwest Indian beach destination, Kovalam. This last bit proved to be a bit more difficult than we had expected because the rickshaw drivers in Trivanduram were apparently also on strike, and therefore demanding higher fares. We reluctantly paid since Kovalam is really not accessible any other way, especially on such short notice.
The town of Kovalam is essentially built on a beach. There is one road behind some of the beachfront hotels that runs the length of the tiny tourist town. During our day and a half at Kovalam, I think that we saw more white people than te rest of the time i've been in India. It was funny because they/we just seem so out of place I can totally understand the desire to stare that many of the Indian people seem to have. We strolled down the beach, shopping for the best priced hotel. Thankfully we passed up the budget choice ($1.50 per person per night) for a big splurge ($3 each). As per usual, we found the hidden gem of a hotel down a narrow smelly path that led past a large dead rat. The hotel itself was great though, and had a pool that I even trusted enough to swim in. We picked the pool for swimming over the ocean simply for the cleaner, less staring at the girls by Indian men reasons. We spent the day mastering our haggling skills at the overpriced
beachfront shops and walking up to the base of the old lighthouse for a view of the great strip of beach beyond. After a nice dinner at a German/Indian/Chinese/American/Italian restaurant, we headed back to the hotel for a late night swim and just to hang out. The only downside of the night was when I cut the bottom of my foot on a piece of what was either glass or a clay pot. My bloody footprints followed me back to my room where I was able to disifect and clean and bandage my foot. Glad I had my tetanus booster and a million other shots!
This morning, Brittany and I went on a walk to find the Lonely Planet Ayurvedic massage recommendation, which we found to be deserted on a hill up a rocky driveway, apparently closed for the off-season. Brittany found some shops that she wanted to look at and I walked back towards the hotel. On my way, a man jumped out of a shop in front of me, advertising an authentic Ayurvedic massage. Somewhat skeptical, I went up and looked at the massage room, which was clean and simple, and found that it was a government approved massage shop, and for only about $7 an hour, it was a price that I don't think I will ever beat anywhere. The massage itself wasn't necessarily the best I've ever had, but after so much traveling and sitting on trains and buses and standing for long periods of time during my days at the hospital, it was a welcome treat to myself that my body was happy to have. The massage standard was a little different than in the US, which I realized as
soon as I was undressed by an attendant and laid down on the hard table, without the massage privacy towel. Afterwards, dripping with oil, I was shown into a steam box that was just big enough for me to sit in on a stool, crouched over. Then I was offered a shower, a process which was also done for me. I felt like something of a royal as I was soaped and scrubbed down and patted dry by the masseur and attendant. It was an interesting experience that I was glad to have had. After lunch, we checked out of our hotel and began the long journey back to Madurai.
After another expensive rickshaw ride, an 8 hour train trip on a packed train with beggars, smelly kids and toilets, and mystery fluids hitting the arm of whoever was sitting next to the window, we are finally back to Madurai and I am on my way to bed in anticipation of my last week in Madurai. I think that I've finally hit a wall in terms of traveling in India. It's been such an action-packed month, and as much as I'm glad to have had all these experiences, I'm really looking forward to the western travel standard and time to relax in Europe. I'm also looking forward to traveling on my own. Trying to make decisions with a group of nine this weekend and not being able to decide when to go to bed, where to eat, and when to wake up is getting old, although it has been great to have a group of people to talk to and travel with.
Bed now, hospital and shopping at the temple bazaar tomorrow...probably followed by ice cream :-)
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