An enchanted houseboat. Kerala, India

Away from the chaos and noise of India is Kerala. Nestled in the south-west corner of India, Kerala 

is the home of spices, coconut groves and tea plantations. The Western Ghats have protected the 

area from the rest of India and it has developed its own customs and cuisine. Its long coast has been 

used as the landing points for Europeans and Chinese traders over the centuries and everywhere you 

can see influences of the Dutch, Portuguese and English; in both architecture and religion.

One "must do' in Kerala is to take to the water. Kerala has 900 kilometres of waterways and 

canals along the coast and inland. There are large lakes and canals surrounding the rice fields. 

The rice fields are below the level of the canals and get flooded during the planting season by 

opening irrigation channels that are connected to the canals. Along the banks are many towns, 

villages, churches, schools and shops. The waterways are the roads of the area. Travelling on 

the water gives you a voyeuristic view of life. There are many ways for the tourist to travel,

they range from organised tourist cruises to water taxis.

The most popular way is by house boat. The house boats are converted or newly built 

kettuvallams. They were originally used as ferries and to transport rice. Now they have been 

converted into luxury accommodation. There are some shonky owners so it is best to either 

view the boat before you sign on or get a reputable hotel to organise a boat as they will then be 

responsible if any thing goes wrong.

The route that is usually used is from Kollam to Alleppy or Alleppy to Kochin. We arranged 

our boat through the Taj Garden Retreat in Kochin. We got on the boat at the Taj Kumaraon 

and were amazed. The boat was spacious with an open lounge and dining area, an enclosed 

air-conditioned bedroom and at the back a small kitchen and staff area. We were introduced 

to our staff for the next 24 hours. There was a boat master, a cook and a helper. We set off 

across the Vambanad Lake, one of the largest lakes in India. It was so peaceful with water 

birds and never ending cups of tea and coffee.

 It seemed that every hour or so we were offered banana fritters, plates of fresh fruit and 

biscuits. Cars and trucks can only access the periphery of the area so everything ends up going 

by water. The major workhorse seems to be very long, narrow boats that are piled high with 

sacks and  building materials. Usually with only one or two workers struggling to pole them along.

 The locals seemed so used to the tourists that they ignore the houseboats although the children all 

laugh and wave on their way to and from school. Small boats pull up along side the houseboat 

selling freshly caught fish and fresh vegetables and fruit. We were already regretting that we had 

only booked for one night.

 The locals bath in the canals, wash their clothes and pots and pans in the canals and take their 

drinking water from it. The canals are kept remarkably clean.

Most of the houses along the canals have their own jetties and private boats.

 Our houseboat was for a couple but there are much larger ones for families and groups. 

It is a very expensive activity for India with boats ranging from $US200 to $US700 and 

up a night. So it falls very much into having a treat. And it really is a treat. No mobile 

coverage, no email and best of all no computers.

 The array of boats and their uses are wonderfully diverse. We saw school boats dropping off 

students at individual jetties and livestock being taken to different pastures. We saw people 

at boat taxi depots with their shopping waiting to go home. And we saw many other houseboats.

 At night we pulled into a mooring that was close to the boat masters village so he could go home 

for the night. As evening fell there is a bit of a traffic jam as all the boats have to moor. They are 

not allowed to travel during the night as it is considered too dangerous.
 During the day the boats have to travel very slowly so that they don't interfere with the normal daily travel and tip over smaller craft.

 With a picture perfect sunset we popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and settled in watching 

the lights in the villages come on and the night traffic on the canal. Kerala calls itself "God's Own 

Country" and on a night like this I think they are right. After a wonderful meal we sat on the deck
and just relaxed. We slept well with absolute quiet and the gentle rocking of the boat.

The next morning we set off as the waterways came alive.

 All too soon we were caught up in another boat jam as all the houseboats headed to Alleppy.

 At Alleppy we sadly said good bye to the staff and the boat.

We vowed to come back and spend at least two night on a houseboat.

But that's another story.

Looking for a tiger in India.....part 4

The story so far. Having left Mumbai on a tiger search I broke my leg in a remote rural area of Rajasthan. 

I met up with a tour group pretending that my leg was sprained. We went to Ranthambore National Park and I saw a tiger. Now I needed to get home.

http://dianeworland.blogspot.com/2012/01/looking-for-tigerpart-3.html

That afternoon we were to take a train to Bharatpur to visit the Keoladeo Ghana National Park. 

The woman with the heart problems was now in a wheel chair and I was stilled half hopping and

 limping. We were travelling first-class, didn’t want to see the rest of the train. The seating was a

two-tiered bunk with the lower bunk configured to be two seats. There was a little ladder to the 

side to climb to the upper level. In the carriage with us were Indian families who had made nests

 for themselves on the upper bunks and were having picnics. They didn’t have to worry about 

dropping food on the floor of the train as there was a healthy, happy family of rats scurrying up 

and down the carriage cleaning up the mess. My bag was open on the floor. Not wanted any 

stowaways I quickly picked it up and closed it. I was sitting reading when I became aware of 

something else scurrying. It was an Indian, I won’t say gentleman, he scurry up the ladder beside

 me and spent the rest of the trip peeking over the edge of the bunk at the top of my head. 

Spies, rats and the smell of curry; wonder what the entertainment was like in steerage.

We stayed at the cutely named Birders Inn. A small hotel with a very pretty garden.

The Keoladeo Ghana National Park is a large wetland bird sanctuary but because of a continuing 

drought there were not a lot of birds. Like most Indian parks this used to be a private shooting park

 for the Raj of Bharatpur. The Park has a tally board recording all the Royal shoots, on some days

 more than 3000 birds were shot. Indian wildlife breathed a collective sigh of relief with the demise 

of  the Raj. It is now a United Nations World Heritage site. It is a man-made and man-managed

wetland. The reserve protects the area from frequent floods and provides grazing grounds for the

village cattle. Every year thousands of migratory waterfowl visit the park for their winter breeding. 

Except this was summer and there was hardly any water and we saw deer,cows, turtles and monkeys.

 But I can’t complain, after all I’d seen the tiger.

Now back to the van for the drive to the Mogul city of Fatehpur Sikri and on to Agra. The woman 

with the heart problem was eased into the back of the van across seats. And I eased myself up the 

steep step. I was thinking what would happen if one of the group died. Would we still go on?

Fatehpur Sikri is a wonderful example of the lunacy of the Raj. It was built in 1571 by Emperor Akbar 

and abandoned in 1586. No-one bothered to check if there was any water to supply the city. There 

was none. This was lucky for the local villagers as they proceeded to pilfer building materials from the 

palace and you can see parts of Fatehpur Sikri on shanties in the surrounded villages. The city is one 

of  the finest examples of a Mughal walled city with an intricate blending of Islamic and Hindu styles

of design and architecture. It is now undergoing massive repairs and restoration. Although just outside 

the gates touts are selling carvings and tiles that have somehow come adrift.

 Then we headed off to The Sheraton in Agra. The woman with the heart problem was headed 

off to hospital and for a medical evacuation back to Australia. My leg was now a greenish, yellowish 

colour and my ankle was only twice the size of the other one. This was the longest lasting sprained ankle

I’d ever had. I was getting better at hopping and ignoring the odd looks. Although the heritage palaces 

that I’d been staying were very grand it was great to be in a modern hotel with few stairs and elevators. 

The plumbing also worked well and there weren’t groveling retainers around every corner.

Our first port of call was the Agra Fort, also known as the Red Fort. It was built by Akbar between 

1565 and 1573. The fort can be more accurately described as a walled palatial city with fabulous views

 over the Taj Mahal.  Here Shahjahan, Akbar’s grandson, spent his last few years as a captive held by Aurangzeb (Shahjahan’s son). Shahjahan languished and died looking at the Taj Mahal where his wife 

was buried. The Taj was designed to be completely symmetrical but in an act of real nastiness, when his father died, Aurangzeb buried him asymmetrically. Family feuds among the Raj were pretty vicious.

Parts of the complex are stilled used to billet and train elements of the army. 

The next morning we were up early to see the sunrise on the Taj Mahal along with around 1000 

other early birds. There was a mad dash for the entrance with me hopping along behind. Wait for 

me, hop...hop, wait for me. No photographs really do justice to it. As the sky changes, the building 

also changes. The Taj Mahal was built by Shahjahan as a memorial for his second wife, Mumtaz 

Mahal, who died in 1631 giving birth to their fourteenth child.

The group minus one. I'm the one in the bottom
row with the pained expression.

 Later the tomb of Satti-ul-Nisa, chief  maid of Mumtaz was added. More mosques built by 

Sirhindi Begam and Fatehpuri Begam were added to the Taj Mahal complex. These buildings 

are exquisite with  their calligraphy and detail. They are built in a red stone and are a great 

contrast to the Taj.

By now we were all tired and tired of each other so it was with relief that we set off for Delhi. 

The group were spending the last night having a group hug at a hotel downtown. I decided to stay 

at the Taj Palace in Delhi and drink champagne. I was staying on for a couple of days to explore 

Delhi before flying back to Mumbai. Because of my leg I didn’t see too much but I hired a car for

 a day and went to Humayun’s Tomb.The tomb was built by the orders of Humayun's widow between

1565 to 1572. It was designed by a Persian architect and had garden features and grandeur that

had not been seen in India before. In the complex there are other tombs that pre-date this. It was a 

very hot day and every tomb had heaps of stairs so I didn't see as much as I should have.

I also drove passed the Parliament buildings and stopped to take some shots of the Delhi Observatory. 

The observatory was built by the same architect who created the Jaipur Observatory. 

I went to the Delhi Cultural Centre which has a great selection of fabrics and embroidery. This, so far, has been the only museum I’ve seen in India that is really well cared for.

It was with relief that I arrived back to Mumbai and met up with Omar, he was staying near the 

office in Andheri. I spent a couple of days holed-up nursing my wounds expecting great sympathy. 

Instead we went on a walking trip around Malabar Hill. As you would guess from the name, it’s a hill.

 It has ups and downs and many, many steep staircases.

At last we were on the plane back to Melbourne. We arrived on a Sunday and, being worried 

about my slow healing sprain, I went to my doctor on Monday morning. Because I was walking he 

thought it was just a slow healing sprain but as a safety measure he sent me off for an X-ray. Later 

that day a nurse rang from the surgery. The first thing she asked was “are you standing up?” I said 

yes and she barked at me to sit down immediately. I had a displaced fibula break. The bone had 

sheared through and slipped, it required urgent attention. The surgeon was concerned that because 

I had been walking for three weeks on a broken leg and had just been in a plane that there could 

be other issues. As it turned out, by being mobile, I hadn’t allowed clots to form so he was able

to operate immediately.

By the end of the week I was back home. Our bedroom is on the second floor so Omar had 

transformed the library on the ground floor into a tribute to India. He covered all the books with 

vibrant saris and had set up a bed for me. Omar hit on a great way of getting me up, he fed me 

porridge every morning and lamb chops with peas and mashed potatoes every day for a month. 

It was out of desperation for a change of menu that I finally made it to the kitchen.

It took a couple of months before I could throw the crutches away. But it was worth it.

I GOT TO SEE THE TIGER!!!!!!!