Tag Archives: travel diary

Hey, hey, hey

Monsoon rain
Gone summer pain
Time to show my face again
to the sky
to my eye
No reason for
Beards to hide by

If the moon comes to play
when the rain has gone away
I’ll be there
No facial hair
Just ol’ me
I’ll be there

When the rain
comes to play
I will meet it
more than halfway
For the water is the way
Calls my name
and yours
Hey, hey, hey

© 2019 Marlon de Souza. All rights reserved.

Advertisements

The Monsoon in Kerala – at 6,000 feet

At a height of nearly 6,000 feet, the monsoon in Munnar, a verdant hill station covered with tea plantations and coconut palms in Kerala, South India feels more intense than the rain at sea level in Kochi. The monsoon here owns the sky and the earth without permission or apologies. No thunder, no lightning this afternoon, just a trickle for a minute and then the sky opens up. And then some more. And then, even more. Until it stops. And then resumes.

Now, there’s no place to go around and be a tourist. The choices are limited to simple ones…sit like a cat in the window, howl like a dog at the rain, read a book, sleep, or stare into the misty rain until my vision gets as blurry as the heavy, foggy mist that fills the skies for a long, long, long way. One way or the other, respect is demanded by the rain gods.

© 2019 Marlon de Souza. All rights reserved.

The rickshaws of Kochi

Ashraf with his rickshaw on Princess Street in Fort Kochi

There’s Ashraf in the first picture. He’s been driving a rickshaw for thirty years. At first, he had his own rickshaw. Now, he rents – it’s cheaper and without having to handle all the hassle of maintenance, insurance and paperwork, he says. I met him in Fort Kochi my first morning there, on Princess Street. Ashraf greets me with his big, warm smile for no particular reason. He exudes ease, and calm. I’ve gotten many big, warm smiles in Kochi for no particular reason. I love it.

And then there are a multitude of other rickshaws this next morning, in Ernakulam, across the harbor from Fort Kochi. I’ll be taking a rickshaw from the ferry jetty in Ernakulam to the train station. From there I’ll catch the train to the backwaters of Allepey, south of Kochi.

The first guy at the ferry jetty at Ernakulam will not take any customers until he completes reading his morning paper. So I go with the next rickshaw. My homestay host in Fort Kochi told me it would be forty rupees to the train station.

Kochi rickshaws are wider and more comfortable than the ones in Mumbai. And more colorful. They drive slower too, even though traffic is light this morning.

All adding to the sense or illusion of peace and serenity…that old saying seems to be true – the outer world is a reflection of the inner world. I’m feeling generally very peaceful and happy here in Kerala, even though it’s been just two days.

I get to the train station in about ten minutes. My rickshaw driver tells me it’s sixty rupees – from my rucksack and my travel shorts, he must know I’m a traveler, not a local. I calmly and serenely tell him it’s forty rupees, which I hand to him. He calmly and with apparent serenity takes the money without any argument.

Off to Allepey now and to the backwaters.

© 2019 Marlon de Souza. All rights reserved.

It’s just the simple things…

Darkness at Fort Kochi beach, Kerala, southern India. It’s half past eight. The extreme humidity of the day has subsided. The beach is quiet. Except for waves loudly lapping the shore – high tide is still some time away. Chinese fishing nets sit silently against the Kochi harbor.

Shaheer, the owner of a fish stand on the beach suggests butter fish, a local specialty. Price 200 rupees, just under $3. Shaheer hands the butter fish to Fakhruddin M Y, the chef at Cafe Balbba, a busy kitchen shack on the water, just behind the fish stand. Fakhruddin will grill the butter fish, medium spicy, with local herbs. For 150 rupees, just around $2.

The view of the Chinese fish nets, the waves lapping the shore and the sand below my feet make it the most satisfying meal in two days in Kochi. Even with the mosquitoes around. And far more satisfying than the unappetizing food and ambience at the expensive and highly rated seafood restaurant in the heart of Kochi. It’s just the simple things…

© 2019 Marlon de Souza. All rights reserved.

Project Good Earth in Kerala

Nature put on an early display of the monsoon in the middle of the night. Pouring rain, thunder claps, the skies opened up in the dark.

Morning arrived, and with it, nature’s soothing alarm clock. Project Good Earth, well known to the Ancients, continues to deliver its promise of nurturing nature.

© 2019 Marlon de Souza. All rights reserved.

It’s raining outside. Can you guess where I am?

I couldn’t wait for the monsoon to arrive in Mumbai. So I’ve headed down to Kerala, God’s Own Country, all the way in the south of India. It’s been an exciting and delightful first day, heat, warmth, smells, sights. But I’ll cover that another time. For now, enjoy the sounds of my first taste of the monsoon here in Kerala, outside the window of my homestay in Fort Kochi.

© 2019 Marlon de Souza. All rights reserved.

No red carpets here

A brown carpet made of jute fabric sort of says Welcome to My World on a road being dug up in Sherly Rajan, Bandra. Mumbai. Maybe all the digging is for a telephone or television cable, maybe it’s for a water main, maybe it’s for construction.

Or maybe it’s just because in Mumbai, utility companies and their contractors love to dig up roads perennially to keep themselves in business.

IMG_8983A steamroller is parked not far from the action, its driver engaged on his mobile phone. Maybe he’s chatting with his family, maybe he’s watching a movie, maybe he’s gossiping with other steamroller drivers.

Further down the street, a bunch of managerial level utility company employees debate the pros and cons of the ditches they’ve dug, after they’ve dug it. First dig, then discover. Life, unfiltered, in Mumbai.

 

© 2019 Marlon de Souza. All rights reserved.