India: Cochin

My first motive back on the ship was to take a shower. After that, I unpacked, settled back in a bit, and had lunch. By this time the ship really was my comfort zone, and it was nice to return to familiar territory.

 

After lunch, my friend Andrea and I set off to take a ferry to the mainland (we were docked on an island artificially constructed during the time of the British). On the way to the ferry, we were harassed by rickshaw drivers offering to take us around the whole city for only five dollars. We were almost tempted to agree just so that they would stop annoying us. Luckily, we made it to the ferry and realized that we had made the right choice: a ferry ride cost only two rupees, the equivalent of about three cents.

 

Once in the town center, Andrea and I were content with wandering around without a particular schedule. We stumbled upon a local crafts market, looked at flashy covers of Bollywood movies, and had ice cream. At the ice cream place, we chatted with the waiter about the differences of how expensive things are in the states versus India. Andrea noted after we left that Indians do have a big interest in business and moving up the economic ladder, and she wondered if it was because with globalization they could see all of the material wealth out there.

 

We visited another Hindu temple and a mosque for one of Andrea’s classes. In both places we were gawked at by locals since we were in residential areas where most tourists would never frequent. At one point a high-school aged boy joined us for our walk until he met up with some of his friends. Later in the day, near the mosque we were persuaded into playing some badminton with a couple younger boys by their father, who enthusiastically kept score. The jury is still out on whether he was just naturally animated or a little drunk.

 

When we went to the mosque, we saw a Muslim man. He seemed confused to why we had come and asked us briskly, “What do you want!” When we responded that we didn’t want anything, we just wanted to look at the mosque from the outside he seemed very taken aback, and went on his way.

 

We went to a restaurant recommended by one of the Indian LLC’s on the ship where we ran into three other SASers. After a lively dinner we took a rickshaw back to the ferry back to the ship to call it a night.

 

The second day in Cochin, I had an FDP trip going to Kumbalangi, a fishing village located in the backwaters of Cochin. I had become accustomed to seeing lakes and canals heavily pollted with trash elsewhere in India, but slipping into the country the waters became as clean and serene as any in the United States. I guess this would be because the fishermen depend on the water directly for their survival, and cannot substitute bottled water like those living in the cities.

 

To access the village we took traditional boats. These boats were controlled by two men, one in front and the other in the back, who used long bamboo poles to move through the water. On the way, one of the people in our group decided to jump in for a swim! I’m not sure if that was a good choice; he did smell a little funky afterward.

 

Once docked, we were greeted by a village guide and coconut water. As we sipped from the coconut, the villager told us about the usefulness of the coconut tree. While its fruit is used for consumption, the oil  is used for cooking, its husk is used to make coir, which is then made into rope, its roots are used as a medicine, and the trunk is used in construction. Overall, it was a valuable lesson in sustainability because the villagers utilized every part of the tree without having any leftover waste. The state of Kerala reveres the coconut so much that its name translates to “land of coconut.”

 

After hearing about all of the virtues of the coconut, we got to see the coir making process. It involves soaking, drying, and beating the husk in order to turn the husk into a usable fiber. The fiber is then treaded through a wooden contraption where the fibers bind together to make a thicker cord. The contraption looked like a rotating steering wheel and required no mechanical inputs, just three women working the rope. When a good amount of the thicker cord combined, the women stopped the spinning contraption and started to braid three of the cords together. WE saw an even larger rope being made later, which again required only the labor of three men twisting and braiding the rope. I felt the rope after it was completed and it seemed incredibly strong, maybe even enough to hold our ship to the dock!

 

We also saw some of the traditional fishing methods of the village. Some women caught fish with their bare hands, using shrimps as bait. We also saw the ancient Chinese fishing nets in operation. The village did have some fish farming where species caught in the river were grown in ponds until they were large enough to be sold in the market. The ponds also held crabs, and the village guide showed us one whose body was bigger than my head!

 

A potter made a flower pot using a pottery wheel powered by man. He spun it around fast with using a stick and when it was going fast enough he got to work on shaping it. The whole process took less than two minutes but turned out looking like one that had been made on a mechanical wheel.

 

We moved to an incredibly beautiful stretch along the water for a dance performance and then lunch. The performance was called KolKali, and was done by male dancers who beat bamboo sticks together. They sang and beat their sticks the whole time, but the rhythm and mood of the dance varied widely. Sometimes it was almost peaceful, while other times I they were screaming and running fast and banging and I thought they would all run into each other and fall over.

 

Lunch was once again phenomenal, and afterwards we had some free time to enjoy the setting. I wandered down the bank awhile until I reached an old man. He didn’t speak English, but was motioning to his stomach and smiling at me. At first I thought he was asking if I enjoyed the food, but then I realized that he wondered if I had any to give him. As I was shaking my head, one of the villagers ushered me away, and I felt like I had intruded on something. It seemed wrong that as we were feasting one of the villagers did not have enough to eat. I didn’t know the full story, of course, but even the brief experience made me feel uneasy.

 

Rickshaws took us back to the bus, where we proceeded to go to Fort Cochin, a historical area of the city. We visited the oldest church in India, which was much more rustic, but no less spiritual, than those in Europe, and saw the home where Vasco de Gama supposedly lived. We walked along the waterfront and saw fresh fish waiting to be sold. Our last stop on the “tour” was at a supermarket so people could get some snacks for the ship. Thence, we returned home, and concluded our time in India.