Monday 25th February
Well, here I am in downtown Chennai...a fairly radical contrast to Kavollam Beach. Yesterday was an interesting time...partly spent chatting to some old timers, partly starting my journey across Southern India to Chennai.
The first old timer was Palam, who had lived all his life in Kavollam, and rents out sunbeds. He was happy just to sit and chat, ask me the usual questions, tell me about his family, and generally just pass the time of day. The second was my old friend, five fingers of Scotch-man, (whose real name is Banesh) who this time said he'd sustained his injury in a fishing accident...hmm...more like Waternish all the time! He was a good guide though. I walked with him along to the mosque that had been devastated by the "3-elephants high" waves. It was indeed devastated, but not just because of the waves, its foundations were being washed away by the sea and it was tilting like the leaning tower.
The sea is steadily encroaching into the land of Kavollam. Both Palam and Banesh told me stories of how wide the beach used to be, whereas now during monsoon there isn't a beach at all. It is all so flat that you get the feeling it won't be long before it is gone altogether.
Banesh also showed me the 'coconut shell factory', which was basically a mechanical device for separating the shell, softened by being soaked in backwater loch for 6 months, from the outer, which is then dried and shipped off to make coire (sp?). He also showed me the temple, a largish one surrounded by very small ones that families in the area have built. I enjoyed his company, his knowledge, his warmth and felt rather depressed that the tourists who wouldn't give him or Palam the time of day are quite happy to snap away at their lives to impress their friends back home.
In the afternoon I had to catch the train. It was an immense train, about 20 carriages long, but my carriage was right up front - A/C first class, two-tier. It was mighty impressive somehow to see my name on the list of passengers posted for each carriage. It probably shouldn't be, but I somehow feel that the same won't be done when I board my train in London to head back to Edinburgh.
The Indian railway system is, I think, the 8th wonder of the modern world...or 9th if there are already eight. You get my drift. It is the largest railway network in the world, run entirely by one company, a state-owned one at that, and despite the odd derailment (more of which later) runs like a dream.
At first I had the compartment to myself. A bit fusty maybe, but the steward was very attentive, gave me my pillow and soap and towel (bet I don't get that on Scotrail) and telling me that if I needed anything just to let him know and he'd organise it, which he did at various stages along the way. A couple of hours later Rajish boarded. He seemed to be a bit bemused about sharing with a white female. We chatted a bit and he told me about how it was the British who had developed the railway system in India; he seemed amused when I said that we needed the help of India now. He also told me about the political state of Kerala, which was interesting. Apparently it is the only democratically-elected communist state in the world. And has the highest literacy rate of all the states in India, which kind of resonated with what I had heard about levels of literacy in Cuba. Maybe they have more to teach us about than how to run a railway!
A few stations further on Mohammed boarded...equally bemused to be sharing with a white female, and proceeded to take over Rajish's temporarily vacated seat. Rajish didn't say anything, just quietly moved over to another seat. At this point the stewart took my order for dinner, which he said would be delivered in a couple of stations time, which it was. Not the best curry i've had, but for 20 rups i can't complain. Once I'd finished mine, Mohammed proceeded to unpack his own dinner...a newspaper full of rice and some interesting-looking sauce that he gobbled up good style.
When it got dark I headed for my bunk and read for a while, but was really too tired. I woke about 1215am, then soon fell back to sleep. When I woke at 6am, I discovered I had yet another roomy, who again seemed a bit startled by my presence. Regardless of how startled they were, I have to say that if I was put in a position of sharing with three male strangers on the train up from London I'd probably not feel too happy. But as I've said before, I don't feel uncomfortable here. Maybe I'm just daft...heading off in the jungle with a strange whisky-tippler.
The fun really started as we got near to Chennai. We didn't know it then, but there had been a derailment the previous afternoon, which even merited a mention in today's The Hindu, which has caused havoc on the railway system. "Passengers left confused" read the headline, "several passengers were put through a harrowing experience" read the copy. I was that passenger! Basically we were all ejected from the train, had to head off across the tracks with our luggage, and basically find our own way into town. To be fair, Lynn said that she would pick me up from whatever station I was at, but I was over 40k from Chennai, so I boarded the first train heading in that direction.
At first, it seemed quite an innoccuous experience...enough room for me and my rucksack and some other displaced passengers. An hour and a half later, it didn't seem quite so good. I was being held up only by the presence of other passengers. My rucksack created a kind of exclusion zone, but otherwise it was a scene from all those films you've seen about Indian trains...people hanging on by their fingertips, hanging off the edge, arms, legs, heads bulging from every opening. After nigh on 20 hours travelling, however, I was too tired to care and just closed my eyes and tried to visualise a better place, which after the two weeks I've just had, wasn't too difficult.
Arriving at Lynn's has been a pleasure. A warm welcome, a lovely lunch with good coffee, my first in two weeks, a visit to a temple with our own tour guide, and then, at the end of all that, my first gin and tonic in India, which may or may not have affected the writing of this posting!
Life is good.
The first old timer was Palam, who had lived all his life in Kavollam, and rents out sunbeds. He was happy just to sit and chat, ask me the usual questions, tell me about his family, and generally just pass the time of day. The second was my old friend, five fingers of Scotch-man, (whose real name is Banesh) who this time said he'd sustained his injury in a fishing accident...hmm...more like Waternish all the time! He was a good guide though. I walked with him along to the mosque that had been devastated by the "3-elephants high" waves. It was indeed devastated, but not just because of the waves, its foundations were being washed away by the sea and it was tilting like the leaning tower.
The sea is steadily encroaching into the land of Kavollam. Both Palam and Banesh told me stories of how wide the beach used to be, whereas now during monsoon there isn't a beach at all. It is all so flat that you get the feeling it won't be long before it is gone altogether.
Banesh also showed me the 'coconut shell factory', which was basically a mechanical device for separating the shell, softened by being soaked in backwater loch for 6 months, from the outer, which is then dried and shipped off to make coire (sp?). He also showed me the temple, a largish one surrounded by very small ones that families in the area have built. I enjoyed his company, his knowledge, his warmth and felt rather depressed that the tourists who wouldn't give him or Palam the time of day are quite happy to snap away at their lives to impress their friends back home.
In the afternoon I had to catch the train. It was an immense train, about 20 carriages long, but my carriage was right up front - A/C first class, two-tier. It was mighty impressive somehow to see my name on the list of passengers posted for each carriage. It probably shouldn't be, but I somehow feel that the same won't be done when I board my train in London to head back to Edinburgh.
The Indian railway system is, I think, the 8th wonder of the modern world...or 9th if there are already eight. You get my drift. It is the largest railway network in the world, run entirely by one company, a state-owned one at that, and despite the odd derailment (more of which later) runs like a dream.
At first I had the compartment to myself. A bit fusty maybe, but the steward was very attentive, gave me my pillow and soap and towel (bet I don't get that on Scotrail) and telling me that if I needed anything just to let him know and he'd organise it, which he did at various stages along the way. A couple of hours later Rajish boarded. He seemed to be a bit bemused about sharing with a white female. We chatted a bit and he told me about how it was the British who had developed the railway system in India; he seemed amused when I said that we needed the help of India now. He also told me about the political state of Kerala, which was interesting. Apparently it is the only democratically-elected communist state in the world. And has the highest literacy rate of all the states in India, which kind of resonated with what I had heard about levels of literacy in Cuba. Maybe they have more to teach us about than how to run a railway!
A few stations further on Mohammed boarded...equally bemused to be sharing with a white female, and proceeded to take over Rajish's temporarily vacated seat. Rajish didn't say anything, just quietly moved over to another seat. At this point the stewart took my order for dinner, which he said would be delivered in a couple of stations time, which it was. Not the best curry i've had, but for 20 rups i can't complain. Once I'd finished mine, Mohammed proceeded to unpack his own dinner...a newspaper full of rice and some interesting-looking sauce that he gobbled up good style.
When it got dark I headed for my bunk and read for a while, but was really too tired. I woke about 1215am, then soon fell back to sleep. When I woke at 6am, I discovered I had yet another roomy, who again seemed a bit startled by my presence. Regardless of how startled they were, I have to say that if I was put in a position of sharing with three male strangers on the train up from London I'd probably not feel too happy. But as I've said before, I don't feel uncomfortable here. Maybe I'm just daft...heading off in the jungle with a strange whisky-tippler.
The fun really started as we got near to Chennai. We didn't know it then, but there had been a derailment the previous afternoon, which even merited a mention in today's The Hindu, which has caused havoc on the railway system. "Passengers left confused" read the headline, "several passengers were put through a harrowing experience" read the copy. I was that passenger! Basically we were all ejected from the train, had to head off across the tracks with our luggage, and basically find our own way into town. To be fair, Lynn said that she would pick me up from whatever station I was at, but I was over 40k from Chennai, so I boarded the first train heading in that direction.
At first, it seemed quite an innoccuous experience...enough room for me and my rucksack and some other displaced passengers. An hour and a half later, it didn't seem quite so good. I was being held up only by the presence of other passengers. My rucksack created a kind of exclusion zone, but otherwise it was a scene from all those films you've seen about Indian trains...people hanging on by their fingertips, hanging off the edge, arms, legs, heads bulging from every opening. After nigh on 20 hours travelling, however, I was too tired to care and just closed my eyes and tried to visualise a better place, which after the two weeks I've just had, wasn't too difficult.
Arriving at Lynn's has been a pleasure. A warm welcome, a lovely lunch with good coffee, my first in two weeks, a visit to a temple with our own tour guide, and then, at the end of all that, my first gin and tonic in India, which may or may not have affected the writing of this posting!
Life is good.
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