2/15/06: Aryuveda for This?

With visions of the South African Blue Train and the Orient Express dancing in our heads, Anne and I boarded the Rock Fort Express First Class Sleeper Car, expecting the lap of luxury. Instead, we entered the cabin of camp—summer camp that is, a four person cabin with two bunk beds. Actually, the conductor did a fine job of matching us up with our roommates, one an engineer for an power equipment company, and the other the founder and chairman of a 4,000-student college in Thanjavur. After some interesting chit chat, Anne and I wolfed down our supermarket snack, carefully storing our waste in a plastic bag. When Anne caught the steward in hallway, and asked where the garbage was located, he replied, “No problem,” grabbed it, opened a door at the end of the car, and tossed it out. We were also happy to find Western toilets on board that were quite clean, but not so happy to discover the reason why—the latrine empties directly onto the tracks below. We respectively rolled and hopped into bed for the night, then rocked and rolled through a restless night’s sleep before arriving on time at the Chennai train station at 4:15. After rinsing off and a begging for a cup o’ Joe at the Hilton Trident, we returned to the airport and flew off to Cochin.

Upon landing in Cochin, we were whisked off to the Kumarakon Lake Resort, on the shore of Vembanad Lake, the second largest in India, which feeds the many canals and tributaries of Kerala’s famous backwaters. While we waited for our room to free up, Anne enjoyed her first Aryuvedic massage and facial, being lathered with enough warm coconut oil to supply a Mumbai McDonalds for a week. However, she felt great and her skin was radiant. We spent the remainder of the day eating and essentially doing nothing—playing an Indian version of knock-hockey, unproductively fishing, and wandering through the meandering pool.

Our big activity was a delightful sunset cruise along the banks of the lake and into the canals of the Kerala backwaters. Along the shores, small villages were awash in the golden light, and the night air resonated with a chorus of chirping birds, the drumbeat of women pounding their laundry clean, and the cacoPHONY of political sirens blaring from loudspeakers. Our guide served up a special treat, leading us on a 3 kilometer walk into the bird sanctuary to see a variety of herons, and a small army of giant fruit bats to give Anne nightmares and encourage her to cuddle tight. Then, the light show began, as the bright orange sun lit up the sky and Rick loaded up the CF card to capture for eternity one of the pretties sunsets we’d ever seen.

The post-cruise experience was a bit of a letdown, as the seafood restaurant was a bust and the Kathakhali dance troupe was taking the evening off, which wasn’t all that bad, because we were able to get to bed at a reasonable hour.