Backwater in God's Own Country

Some thoughts from our first houseboat trip in the backwaters of Kerala:
Finally I understand what backwaters means, after having checked out a map of Kerala at the hotel we stayed at. The place is spectacularly beautiful but the water is muddy and dirty looking. As well it should because all activities bodily and non-bodily, human and non-human take place in its waters. People wash clothes, a few meters down stream somebody is gargling and brushing and few more meters down a man is fishing for dinner to be served to some hapless tourist in a house boat later in the night. Such is life in the idyllic backwaters.

The houseboat itself is quite comfortable. Made from bamboo and other kinds of wood. The room is also nice. Very importantly, the bathroom has toilet paper - the hallmark of civilization. As soon as you board, the staff brings you a tender coconut cut open and straw inserted. Sweet coconut water quenches your thirst as you sprawl on the deck couch and watch the houseboat driver start the engines. The incredibly enough, he honks some geese out of the way and yells instructions to the onshore staff who poke and push the boat so that it safely departs. Even more incredibly, the driver then executes a 3-point turn in the water, moving forward on what seems to be a sure collision course, reversing and wildly spinning the wheel while the boat drifts randomly toward some other boats. Somehow it all works out and we are on our way out of the canal into the open waters of Lake Vembanadu.

It's very pleasant to sit around and watch the murky water pass by, point and laugh at birds sitting percariously on single sticks while flapping birds to and fro to maintain balance. Then it gets a little boring but still you are at peace. Then again nothing to do. Then you get to another shore, this one in the Alleppey district. The cook lays out an elaborate meal including some great veggi dishes and also two fish which I suspect were being caught frantically even as we were boarding. But still we eat and live. The food tastes great. The cook is fantastic.

The we laze around a little more while we stay docked. Eventually the boat begins to move and goes to another part of the shore where we are informed we will stay put for the night. Just as I begin to wonder if I need to start meditating, a young lad asks us if we would like to go for a boat ride down the canal. 2 hours for Rs. 300 per person. Boredom or boat ride? We decided to ponder over this tough decision over hot onion pakodas and tea that the cook graciously placed before us. As we munched, it started to drizzle. So considered sitting back and watching some high tech entertainment beamed straight from the skies via Reliance Big TV dish network. Unfortunately, the dish kept filling with water from the rain and generally was throwing a lot of tantrums.

So we threw up our hands and decided on the boatride. Our young guide, Shaan, took us out to a rickety old boat and he with his cousin, Shaam, took us into the waters.
A minute or so in, he suggested that we check out the local Krishna temple on the other side of the shore before we headed into the canal. We agreed though I wondered why he was going to the trouble of going to the other shore instead of just plodding along and getting done with it to get his Rs. 600. So we went off to our little visit to the temple and came back to find two new couples on the boat. Aha! Sly fox he was, that Shaan fellow. He had added some extra moolah to his day's earnings.
The new pax looked pleasant enough though. One of the couples was Korean, of which the woman seemed very adventorous, having coaxed her husband who seemed frightened to death over getting onto the rickety old boat. He had forearms like some tough shaolin monk so wondered why he was so scared. Perhaps they didn't teach swimming in Shaolin temples. Ha ha ha, I laughed in my mind, silently. Then I realized, Korea is not China. That sobered me up.

Anyway, off we went further down the river and into the canal. It was very pleasant. We just relaxed and watched the scenery when finally the silence was broken by the Korean woman in front of us. And that was it. She just wouldn't stop. But she was actually well spoken and talked about a lot of things. She herself seemed to know a great deal about Kerala. She was also a bibliotherapist - a therapist who provides books as remedy to different mental problems. First time I've known of such a profession. Just imagine:
"Doctor, doctor, I have an irresistable urge to drive young women around town!"
"I recommend reading Driving Miss Daisy. Ha ha ha ha!"

Anyway, the canal tour was fun. We talked a fair amount. We gawked at people, chicken, cats, trees and weeds. In return, only the people gawked at us. On the way back, it became quite dark. Then it started to rain as well. Luckily we had all brought our umbrellas along. It was very hard to see. The only thing I could make out were some white bead like things in our boat. Which turned out to be the Korean man's knuckles as he gripped the boat for dear life. Finally, we returned to our boats, drenched but alive.

We got in, freshened up for our dinner. Meanwhile, the electric lights had been switched on in the boat. And guess what happens when you do that in the middle of the jungle? That's right - insectapalooza! All insects of all shades and temperaments were swarming around in the main deck area where the dining table was. We decided to retreat to the cocoon of our bedroom and have dinner there. It was worth it - great chicken fry, curry, rice and half a pineapple, unseasoned by frolicking insects. I let out a great burp and fell asleep.

Next day, we ate a most delicious breakfast of idiyappam and coconut milk. The idiyappam was even more delicious in that it steamed in some leaves and had shredded coconut in it. And just like that we pulled back into our docking spot and checked out.

Tick one off the bucket list!