Vay-cay-she-yon! After two straight months of blistering heat, we (Jaspreet and I) decided it was time for a frickin’ break. So, we decided to go to Kodaikanal, a mountain station originally established by the British to cope with the heat in the summer. This is actually the ideal time of year to go because as it’s over 90 degrees in Auroville every day, it’s like a high of 70, with zero humidity, and in the evenings it was in the 40’s at night, just cool enough to sleep with a blanket: it was amazing!!!
We even had a fireplace that we attempted to use three nights in a row. I say “attempted” because we never quite succeeded in building a fire that didn’t require constant care. I swear I did everything right, so I blame the wood. We couldn’t get any good logs that weren’t already a little burned or wet or treated or whatever other problem there could be with the wood. I even hacked up a piece of wood with a hatchet (the only tool we had to make a log smaller) to make it fit nicely inside the fireplace, to no avail. At least it wasn’t THAT cold at night, hah.
Most of the trip consisted of walking somewhere, usually uphill and in search of food. Wow we ate a lot of food! I think I gained like two kgs, that’s right KGs (equals 4.4 lbs) in an eight day span. We ate lots of north Indian food like mulai kufta (yummy breaded cheesey potato dumplings in a delicious vegetarian gravy), paneer butter masala (hunks of semi-firm cheese in a spicy, buttery sauce), chana masala (chickpeas in a tasty yet spicy sauce), along with lots of naan and north Indian parathas which are WAYYY different than their south Indian counterparts of the same name. The northern ones are flatter and friend, with a different texture, more like a fat tortilla while the southern ones are a little denser and have a more circular , flakier way that they tear apart when you use them to scoop up your food. Either way, totally delicious!Traveling is just an excuse for me to eat as much food as possible under the guise of “hey, I’m eating locally.”
My thirst for knowledge of cultures started in 10th grade Spanish class, and it wasn’t the language I was so drawn to, believe it or not. It was the food. I remember seeing pictures of paella in a textbook and being like I don’t know what that is, but I frickin’ wanna eat it. LOL, true story. Just ask my mom.
Another type of food we ate out of style was real bread (well, and other assorted baked goods) from the only bakery in town. We live in a place where refined sugar, white flour and processed foods are not allowed, so wouldn’t you believe we ate white bread all week long. The bakery is called Daily Bread Pastry Corner and it’s a tiny little storefront wedged between “homemade” chocolate stalls. They opened twice a day, from 10-2 (or until they ran out of food), when they’d have donuts, sweet muffins, éclairs, sandwiches, something they referred to as pizza and cakes. Then, at 3, they would reopen until whenever they ran out of food again and during this time they would sell all of their fresh daily breads like baguettes, rolls and stuffed coconut bread. Wowee. They ran out of food every day. If you didn’t get there right when they rolled the door open, well then you were just H.O.L. (hungry outta luck).
I think in a less busy season, the food would last longer and there would be less competition, but as we picked the busiest time of year to visit Kodaikanal (lucky us), we literally had to drop an elbow or two and knock a granny down (jk, I would never knock a granny down unless she were a zombie or something) just to get in there and get service. There isn’t a proper “form a line and you will be served in the order you are standing.” Hell no. Survival of the fittest is more like it. I’ve never been so offended by line cutting in my life. Well, not really offended, more like off-put. I’m a quick learner though, I can shove to the front of a line with the best of 'em now!
Another little tidbit about tourist season: people are everywhere, all the time. Our hostel was like a sanctuary compared to the surrounding areas. Like 50 meters from the entrance to our hostel was an “Observatory” aka tourist attraction, and thus everyday from like 8a-8p there were tour buses and crowds honking, stinking and staring up and down the street. That’s right, staring. One day I made the trek to the chai shop solo, to bring snacks back down to our room and enjoy the view and I made like 5 new “friends.” A white girl traveling solo attracts a lot of attention from the fellas. A group of 10 guys got off of a tour bus, proceeded to stare and then ask my name, where I came from, etc. I felt like the tourist attraction at many places we visited last week, lol.
Apparently, there is a shortage of white people in these areas, especially during high season. They must have gotten the memo. Definitely had some fellas trying to take pictures with me or sneakily take my picture from afar. Perverts. One day a little old lady sat next to me on some steps for a while, then her family came up a bit later, they chatted a bit, and it ended up she wanted to take a picture with me. So, I put on my cheesiest grin, put my arm around her, and we made a photo together. This is much more flattering than feeling like the paparazzi are after you, haha.
Now, the most harrowing, exciting points of our laid-back vacation were definitely the bus rides. Oh my God, I’m lucky to be alive. You think bungee jumping and sky diving are extreme sports? Try taking a local, government bus up a mountain in a third world country. Holy hell! Riding a moped on a dirt road with no helmet doesn’t hold a candle to this bus journey.
Going up, we’re going like 2kph (aka slow), but there’s frequent braking and the twisting of this giant steel Twinkie filled with people around sharp curves. Also, the two-lane road is just about wide enough for two small, compact cars to pass each other. It definitely doesn’t appear to be wide enough for two buses to pass one another, but time and time again, it managed to happen. As the buses continue on this grueling uphill journey, through which the bus stalled multiple times, increasing my trust in the whole experience, you are looking over the side of a cliff and the land is getting further and further away. Which means that we were visibly climbing higher and higher.
This experience is like the uphill part of a roller coaster, but only slower, at the pace of a snail, and there isn’t a part, after 30 seconds or a minute where you get to joyride down, strapped in a seat on, with the safety of a steel mountain passing away below you. It took 3 hours! Three hours going uphill on a roller-coaster: my nerves were SHATTERED when we finally reached the top. I was very, very happy to exit that bus. My knuckles were sore for two days from holding on to the seat in front of me so tightly, lol.
Now, coming down the mountain was a much quicker experience, but even more harrowing. To start off, it took about an hour and some small change to descend. And it was dark out. And the bus was going so fast, and rocking back and forth so much that people, left and right, were throwing up. Not just a little bit either, or in one location, but EVERYWHERE. Barf Fest, 2011. Luckily, I managed to keep my cookies down, but I’m definitely glad that I didn’t eat dinner before I boarded the Vomitron Saturday night. People were pulling plastic bags out of pockets and purses only to bury their head in the bag between their legs and let it go. The girls behind us were throwing up out the window, so when the bus stopped there was vomit streaked all across the side of the bus. I’m glad we opted for the front seat and had windows to open, otherwise I’m sure we would have crashed the barf party, uninvited.
Overall, aside from the traveling, we had a great trip! Just being in the mountains, above the clouds, was really refreshing. Being that high up, the fog and clouds just form around you; we kept joking that we must be on Cloud 9, lol. I needed it, for sure. I’m ready to head to the next destination, probably by train next time, to the north, in search of northern Indian food, from north India. Yum.
Jazzy-Jazz, waiting for yet another bus, in Trichy.
Amen!
Trichy (Thiruchirappalli) at night! We stopped over here on our way to Kodai, ate a tasty South Indian meal and splurged on a hotel room with air-conditioning.
I don't know how theses people were sleeping. Yeah, and that's a person sitting (sleeping) in the aisle.
Another shot of the bus that stayed crowded like this the six-hour journey from Trichy to Kodai. Whew.
View from our doorstep. It's okay to be a little jealous.
Staircase #1 of the climb we would do just to leave the hostel.
Not so fancy, but perfect for us. I spent many an hour reading in that there chair.
You know who this is. Those are the mountains. Yup.
Dinner! S. Indian parathas, plums, mountain-made cheese, avocados and some Western condiments we found that we realized we could no longer live without (and they required no refrigeration).
An alternate view, from another point in Kodai.
The better half of the wild buffalo that cruised past our door at 7am sharp each morning.
A tiger at a tourist trap. Rawrr!!
This is a random parade. These men were swinging from hooks that were pierced through their flesh. There were three floats similar to this one. There were also women who marched in this parade carrying pots of fire with long skewers pierced laterally through their cheeks, from one side to the other.
An electrical marvel or an electrical fire waiting to happen? You decide.
Jazz-a-ma-Tazz and D$ in front of Pastry Corner.
Notice here: the car in the lake. No one seemed to startled or was in any huge rush to retrieve it. We cruised past and they seemed to have it under control, thus we didn't offer to help.
