From our earlier trips to the developing world, we've learned that in any country with travelling challenges, there is always a "gringo trail." This is the route that many foreigners opt for whether because of government restrictions, economics, and safety issues or just for the ease of getting from one place to the next with a minimum of hassle. It always includes major tourist attractions.
We'd resolved to stay clear of the gringo trail in Kerala but decide to make a notable exception--travelling to the famous backwaters, often touted as the highlight of any trip to southern India.
We are really sorry to leave Munnar after three nights and wish we'd planned to stay longer. It's a spectacular place and we've enjoyed every minute here.
Early on a Tuesday morning, Sobit picks us up and we are on our way. He knows a shortcut which takes us back down through the tea plantations where we see pickers already hard at work. We marvel at their sure-footedness on some of the steep slopes and wonder, really, how they do it. The women have attached brightly coloured umbrellas to their head scarves, a guard against the blazing sun, and the odd one smokes a cigarette as her hands work at lightening speed clipping the tea bushes
Down and down we go reversing our earlier journey, this time on a narrower, bumpier road but with less traffic. Sobit has found the perfect CD of background music for our travels and he smiles at us as it begins to play. Classic temple tabalas intercut with sitars and flutes make us feel like we're in an Indian movie as we criss-cross one of the most beautiful landscapes we've ever seen.
Finally, we hit the highway and Sobit speeds up. Our destination today is the tourist hub of Kumily on the edge of the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary. En route we stop for lunch at a roadside diner beside a huge "Welcome We Are Air Conditioned Family Room In Back" sign.
A friendly waiter greets us with open arms before slapping an extensive menu on the table closest to us. A huge notice on one wall warns us that "Smoking and the Consumption of Alcohol Will Not Be Tolerated." We're feeling a bit conspicuous as the only customers but order our lunch nonetheless.
The waiter disappears into the kitchen and we overhear a very loud conversation. Minutes later he rushes past us to the open door, grabs his bicycle and pedals quickly out into the busy traffic. He is obviously on his way to the market to buy the ingredients for our meals which, when they arrive much later, have been made from scratch and are absolutely delicious.
Some two hours after we stopped, we carry on and finally enter Kumily in the mid-afternoon.
The town is full of tour operators promoting mini-safaris to the wildlife sanctuary and offering options to bathe and ride the elephants. We haughtily disdain the whole thing prefering to remember our "purer" experiences in Africa. We'll overnight here before carrying on to Alleppey and the backwaters in the morning.
The homestay we're booked into is grubby with torn sheets and pillowcases, a stark contrast to our pristine place in Munnar. The surly proprietor points us in the direction of main street where we find dozens of souvenir shops and a huge dining hall packed with European tourists. Reluctantly, we sit at the only empty table.
There is little doubt that we are in the thick of the gringo trail here and we're not liking it much at all.
Q
We'd resolved to stay clear of the gringo trail in Kerala but decide to make a notable exception--travelling to the famous backwaters, often touted as the highlight of any trip to southern India.
We are really sorry to leave Munnar after three nights and wish we'd planned to stay longer. It's a spectacular place and we've enjoyed every minute here.
Early on a Tuesday morning, Sobit picks us up and we are on our way. He knows a shortcut which takes us back down through the tea plantations where we see pickers already hard at work. We marvel at their sure-footedness on some of the steep slopes and wonder, really, how they do it. The women have attached brightly coloured umbrellas to their head scarves, a guard against the blazing sun, and the odd one smokes a cigarette as her hands work at lightening speed clipping the tea bushes
Down and down we go reversing our earlier journey, this time on a narrower, bumpier road but with less traffic. Sobit has found the perfect CD of background music for our travels and he smiles at us as it begins to play. Classic temple tabalas intercut with sitars and flutes make us feel like we're in an Indian movie as we criss-cross one of the most beautiful landscapes we've ever seen.
Finally, we hit the highway and Sobit speeds up. Our destination today is the tourist hub of Kumily on the edge of the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary. En route we stop for lunch at a roadside diner beside a huge "Welcome We Are Air Conditioned Family Room In Back" sign.
A friendly waiter greets us with open arms before slapping an extensive menu on the table closest to us. A huge notice on one wall warns us that "Smoking and the Consumption of Alcohol Will Not Be Tolerated." We're feeling a bit conspicuous as the only customers but order our lunch nonetheless.
The waiter disappears into the kitchen and we overhear a very loud conversation. Minutes later he rushes past us to the open door, grabs his bicycle and pedals quickly out into the busy traffic. He is obviously on his way to the market to buy the ingredients for our meals which, when they arrive much later, have been made from scratch and are absolutely delicious.
Some two hours after we stopped, we carry on and finally enter Kumily in the mid-afternoon.
The town is full of tour operators promoting mini-safaris to the wildlife sanctuary and offering options to bathe and ride the elephants. We haughtily disdain the whole thing prefering to remember our "purer" experiences in Africa. We'll overnight here before carrying on to Alleppey and the backwaters in the morning.
The homestay we're booked into is grubby with torn sheets and pillowcases, a stark contrast to our pristine place in Munnar. The surly proprietor points us in the direction of main street where we find dozens of souvenir shops and a huge dining hall packed with European tourists. Reluctantly, we sit at the only empty table.
There is little doubt that we are in the thick of the gringo trail here and we're not liking it much at all.
Ever the plucky adventurer; great post Beverley; all my best going fwd off the gringo trail. Keep it coming!
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