MIDPOINT Megapost

Ahoy, loyal blog followers. As some of you may or may not know, I recently went on a 12-day vacation of sorts (read: fellowship midpoint retreat) to the south of India (Kerala), making sure to pass through the wet (as in alcohol) city of Mumbai on the way down and on the way back up. In the spirit of my original Guate Megapost (see October 2009), I have written a second one, sprinkled with some highlights. Enjoy.

Part I: From Small Town to the Big City

As I boarded my third overnight train in India, my backpack caused me to hunch over slightly. I had of course packed it only 3/4 full to save some empty space for the illegal liquids I'd be smuggling back to Gujarat just 10 days later. Gabe was excited for his first train in India and as we boarded I was aware of the differences between this one and the Khamakya Express I'd taken before. Now this was a train! Outlets, clean beds, working A/C and no cockroaches. Within 15 minutes we took off and almost 30 minutes later, we arrived at highlight #1: Gabe gets his berth jacked by an old Indian woman! It went a little something like this:

Three young Indian men talk us up for a while. They are friendly, and on two occasions casually inquire if the side lower berth is ours. Yes, we reply. 20 minutes pass.
Young Indian: my mother is just going to rest on your bunk for a few minutes.
(old Indian woman appears out of nowhere, sits on Gabe's bunk. She smiles at us.)
Gabe: uh...
Young Indian: She is old and sick. She will just rest for a few minutes, it is okay.
Me: (to Gabe) you just got your bunk jacked.
Gabe: what? really?
Me: yea man. It happened to me on the Bihar train. You gotta guard your lower berths.
Gabe: (to Young Indian) Did I just lose my bed?
Young Indians (all together): No NO NO, you see, it's just a small trade and then when the other person comes, we will trade here and... (goes on for a minute about some nonsensical trade of berths)
Me: yea, she took it.
Gabe: oh well, I guess I'm going up top.

To let your guard down on Indian trains is to lose your lower bunk to an unsuspecting, old often decrepit Indian lady. To be vigilant at all times is the rule. This is India. And so Gabe took the top tier of 3. Atleast there was room for his feet to hang off. We approached Mumbai and upon stepping off the train were hit full on by the humidity of that sub-tropical climate. I immedately became woozy with the heat, but also the excitement! Haggling in Hindi was an adventure and we finally found ourselves a rickshaw to take us to Khar Danda for 60 rupees. We met our friends and soon grabbed another auto to the coastline nearby for highlight #2: drinking a beer at Juhu (Jew who?) beach in Mumbai. One large Kingfisher beer was twice as much as I needed, but the sight of a beach, seagulls, and a sunset made me think of a familiar place I left almost three years ago...

Part II: Welcome to the jungle

I met my cohort and we rejoiced in seeing one another after the prolonged four and a half month gap. Not much time to dilly dally as we boarded a plane for the south: Coimbature, Tamil Nadu. We stepped off the plane to another immense wall of humidity, taken up a notch or two from Mumbai. We were suddenly in a place completely different from any of the India that I had known. It was jungle. Thick, everywhere. A state adamantly opposed to the use of Hindi, I couldn't read, understand, or speak a word to the locals either. But that didn't mean the food wasn't good! Also completely different from most of the other Punjabi, curried stews of India, South Indian food is grand. Dhosas, vada, sambar, idli. Heavily oiled and fried, yet delicious going down. Will save the "going back out" part of the food for later in this post.

After an hour and a half ride through the countryside in our packed van, we settled down at a quaint little country house in rural Kerala. The neighboring state to Tamil Nadu, Kerala is widely known as a resort area with beautiful beaches. Of course, we were in a rural village with more jungle, snakes, and what I estimated at possibly 1,000 mosquitoes per square inch. Our hosts were nice enough, and there was a neighborhood 15-year-old whizkid named Sanjay who spoke 5 languages fluently, liked baseball (!), and provided me with highlight #3: After a few hours of conversation, Sanjay told us "One day I will become an astrophysicist, or, a wet (he meant vet) and start a foundation for sick animals called the Steve Irwin Foundation. He was the best crocodile Hunter ever. I loved him." We later discovered that Sanjay, whose favorite animal was the elephant, carried around a notebook everywhere that was covered in elephant stickers. Unfortunately, the country cottage was too small for our needs, and we boarded the packed van once more the next day to head out to Cochin, the major hub of Kerala.

Part III: Jewtown, and that time I wore a skirt for 2 days

In Cochin, we arrived in the burbs to the Highway Garden Inn. A name ringing of a small town America motel, I was quickly impressed by clean beds, 24/7 A/C and... and... and.. my first real shower in 5 months. To stand under a high pressure nozzel with realtime temperature adjustment capabilities is an experience not to be understated. The shower was utilized. Twice a day. Curiously, I will not include the shower under my highlights, but rather highlight #4 was the overwhelmingly approved, name-changing fried gobi for lunch and dinner. The first day it was Manchurian, the second Teriyaki, the third Kerala Special, and the fourth, well, it gave me the di-di. Nevertheless, it was spicy, Chinese-like, fried cauliflower and it was magnificent. Then, I had 2 shots of Romanov vodka with some of the fellows.

Our next day in town was our token free day and the ten of us crammed into a few taxis en route to Fort Cochin - the touristy, old part of the city made famous for its Jewish and Christian influence - lined with basilicas, churches, and the oldest synagogue in the Commonwealth, dating back to the 1500s. At once the humidity overwhelmed me and I had no hesitation in embarking upon a Christian mission of my own which would constitute highlight #5: immediately purchasing a dhoti, the common item of clothing worn by all males in Kerala. It was, basically, a skirt. And I wore it. For 2 days straight. It was quite possibly the best decision I have made of 2010. Where I was sweating profusely before the dhoti, I was only mildly sweating after. And that's a big deal. Although it should have only cost about 50 rupees, I let the man swindle me for 220. Then I had him dress me in it. It kept coming loose throughout the day, so many other random men of Kerala were asked for assistance in dressing me. When in Kerala...

Our group split into two groups of five and we wandered the old, colonial streets of Fort Cochin, finally arriving at the Jewish sector, dubbed Jewtown. Yes, it was called Jewtown. We toured the old synagogue where we learned that the first Rabbi of Cochin, who founded the synagogue, escaped from the Moors in the 1500's, swimming from the mainland to Cochin with his wife on his shoulders. Upon entering the synagogue, I got that familiar feeling, that connection, shared by Jews across the world. Then we wandered down Jewtown streets, making sure to snap pictures of the swastikas alongside the Jewish stars. The evening ended as the two groups came together at a small restaurant which assured us they had beer, yet no alcohol license. Thus, we arrived at highlight #6: beer in a teapot. 30 minutes later, our beer arrived... in a teapot. We looked at each other, shrugged, clanged together the tea pots and, up-turning the spouts, poured it down our throats.

Part IV: A dip in the river and a dinner on the dock

One of the most popular tourist activites in Kerala is to tour the backwaters by boat. The area around Cochin has a unique blend of inland jungle rivers and creek systems, enclosed with thick jungle. Our group booked a half-day boat tour and we headed out early Saturday morning for our day on the river. With our boatman propelling us along, we cruised down taking in the jungle scenery, and hopping off the boat twice for an intimate look into the local work of rope-making and the fine art of eating cashew nuts right off the tree. Highlight #7 was an impromptu jump into the river, where after about 1 minute we realized how out of shape we were, and struggled to keep afloat while catching up to the docked ship. The whole time I was in the water, all I could think about was the movie Anaconda.

The last two nights in Kerala, we got put up in some sweet little cabanas on a dock jutting out into the Arabian sea. Watched two beautiful sunsets and had dinner right on the dock. Although the mosquitoes were in full force, the cooler location was well worth it and it was the perfect end to our Keralan adventure.

Part V: Passover: strangers in the land of Egypt India

Alas, our time in Kerala had ended and we boarded our personal van for a 4-hour ride back to Tamil Nadu and our plane to take us back to the big city. But the trip was not over! We still had 2 more days to spend in Mumbai, and a Passover seder to organize. With 20+ people expected for the event, we staked out a location, cooked up some Matzah Ball soup and haroset, and catered in some much desired hummus and falafel. What happened next was an experience not wholly different from that of the ancient Israelites and provided for highlight #8 of the trip: our improvised Passover seder. An unexpected series of events expelled us from our original site, just as we sat down to start the seder. Reminiscent of the Jews fleeing Egypt, we carried all of our food, matzah, and haggadot, marched outside and crossed the 4-lane road (Red Sea) amid heavy traffic, marched down the street and then through the windy maze of alleys in a slum (the desert), and arrived to a cramped apartment living room in the same slum, where we settled down to a night of drinking, songs led by a random 50-yr old bearded Jew named Richard, and the most makeshift, medlied passover I've ever experienced. Much more than 4 glasses of wine later, I shuffled to my friend's apartment, plopped down on the pullout couch, and got bitten up by mosquitoes for the rest of the night.

And we will end this megapost on highlight #9: getting my first bagel and lox in 6 months. Within the 3 days I was in Mumbai, I visited The Bagel Shop an average of once per day; it's possible I may have overdone it when it came to non-Bhuj luxuries (aka M&Ms and olive oil). Overall, those 12 days could be characterized by friends, food, and fun, and it was a memorable time. Thanks especially to Toma, Dafnah, and Gilad for hosting me in Mumbai.