Day 159 - Down South

Southern India has a reputation for being at least a little slower and less hasslely than the northern part of the country. You wouldn't know that arriving into Ernakulum Junction. The train pulled into the station at about 9:45. We found the ticketing desk without any problem. The ticketing desk, however is only for trains leaving in the next 2 hours - we wanted to book a train for Thursday. Someone in line there said the the reservation office was 'that way, by the east entrance' and gestured down the platform. So we went 'that way'. The reservation office wasn't there. But the cafe was, so I asked the man behind the counter. 'Across the street', he said. Which was in fact, across the parking lot. Near the 'east entrance' to the parking lot, as it happens, the first guy was half right.

Ernakulum Junction has no tourist line. Luckily, by now have figured out how to read the timetables posted on the all, and luckily this station had them printed in English - often they are only written in Sanskrit. I filled out the appropriate forms and got in line. Where I learned that they could only confirm reclining chair seats, and that I would have to come back on the day of travel to confirm sleeper seats. I went ahead and bought the tickets. This stressed Cz out. So I went to the timetables again to see what other trains were running to Bangalore on Thursday. Then I went to the Enquiry window to ask if sleeper berths were available on any of them. They were not, but the man at that window said that for an extra 150 rupee, I could get Taktal tickets. (last minute reserved for tourists and emergencies, but not officially tourist quota tickets - trains to and from Bangalore do not have tourist quotas). Of course the guy at the ticket counter didn't tell me this. Indian rail is very regulated: One line for the forms, another for the ticket, and another for information. Add in the Indian propensity for line jumping - which I have learned to counter by spreading myself entirely across the width of the line - and you are looking at a very long morning. In stations without a tourist office, buying a rail ticket can very well take an hour or more.

Anyway. I deliver this info to Cz. Pay the 300 rupee he says. (150 each). But I've wised up. I don't go back to the ticket window. I go back to the enquiry window and show him my chair seats. Enquiry man tells me not to bother with Taktal, that there are 200 sleeper berths open on that train, they just can't release them until day of travel.

I still have no idea why. I hope they are still there when we get back to the station.

By now it is past noon. I had planned on doing a combination of tuk-tuk and ferry to get to our guest house out in Fort Cochin, the older, quieter, Dutch/Portuguese side of town, but Cz was looking so frazzled, that I opted to hire a tuk-tuk the whole way, rather than trying to negotiate the main ferry terminal. (The city of Kochi encompasses a series of islands and peninsulas. Ernakulum is the loud, modern, mainland part of the city. It is connected to the older, nicer parts by a series of ferries or bridges).

After a brief haggle, the driver and I settled on a price, and we were off and away. We must have had the horniest - as in horn-loving - auto rickshaw driver in all India. Beeping and weaving, irregardless of the direction of traffic, we zoomed our way through the traffic and out to Fort Cochin. "Traffic no problem for Ferrari" our driver would hoot, leaning on the horn and shooting through an impossibly tight gap between the trucks. I think I have my first grey hairs now.

But we did get there quickly and without hassle.

I dropped Cz at the restaurant of a guest house that we had read about in Lonely Planet, and I went out to hunt down better digs. A little while, and a little getting lost later, I did secure us a family-run guest house near the water and the basilica. A little more getting lost, and I collected Cz, and settled us into our new home.

The guesthouse is run by three generations of a friendly local family. A girl our own age checked us in. An older woman and man (I'm guessing her parents), saw to it that we had tickets to the local dance program, and that she (mama) would prepare us a fish dinner and a traditional Keralan breakfast.

Kathakali is one of the traditional dance forms of Kerala (the state where Kochi is located). It involves elaborate costumes and make-up. So elaborate in fact, that the getting into make-up is a performance in itself. We joined a handful of other tourists at the theatre over an hour before the performance to watch the star get into his makeup. Like any actor, he fussed with his prosthetics as soon as his helper was out of sight.

The performance was excellent, though my favourite part was just the demnstration of all the facial movements and expressions of various scenes from nature.

After the show, the MC requested that everyone donate to a box to 'support the artists and their families'. Scam or not, we dropped a few rupees in - it serves to have good theatre karma.

Back at the guest house, mama had prepared a huge feast of local specialties. We had spiced fried fish (which I now have the recipe for), fish curry in coconut milk (quite possibly from the coconuts growing in the backyard), spicy cabbage, local red rice, and local papaya. Papaya is not generally one of my favourite fruits, but this was amzing - soft, sweet, and perfumy tasting. Mama even made a special spicy red pepper chutney just for Cz because I mentioned that he liked spicy! Throughout dinner she checked in on us, trying to refill our plates, adn making sure we had enjoyed our evening. It was like staying at your favourite auntie's house.

Tomorrow, she will be preparing us a traditional Keralan breakfast. If tonight's dinner is any indication, we shouldn't have to eat again all day!