Spicemania

One of many spice shops in Periyar

Indian food is spicy… statement of the obvious. New to me was that Indians love their spices so much that they spice up dishes and food us non-Indians would never think of. The dish will then be called Masala something with masala being the locally popular spice mixture. “Locally” meaning – in this particular restaurant, market, town, region… One of the examples would be a Masala omelette which is a normal omelette with added chilly, onion, garlic, tomato and spices. Even if you buy a six pack of eggs in the supermarket they often come with a complimentary little packet of masala. Masala tea, known in Australia as chai, varies from supersweet milky tea with a spice mix to deeply aromatic teas with cardamom or ginger flavour. Masala bread takes a bit of getting used to. Harder I find Masala lemonade… don’t think I gonna order that again 😉 As a filling masala seems to have the meaning of a spicy potato mixture. So you can get masala dosa – a pancake made from rice and lentils stuffed with spicy potatoes. As a topping masala will be a mixture of chopped tomatoes, onion, chilly, coriander leafs and spices, for example in masala papad (crispy chickpea flour bread) or peanut masala.

Spoiled for choice

But enough masala science. During our Kerala tour we went to one of the main spice producing areas not only in India but in the whole world. The tropical Malabar coast offers unique and ideal conditions for many of the spice plants. When Vasco da Gama landed here he was right where he wanted to be – in the middle of spice land. India is the largest producer of spices in the world. I was surprised to learn that although they are also the biggest exporter only 10% of the produced spices leave the country. The rest ends up on the Indian market.

The variety of spices grown here is simply amazing. There is cardamom, ginger, chilly, cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, pepper, tamarind, curry leaf, turmeric, vanilla, thyme seed, star anis, coriander, asafoetida, mace, cumin, allspice, saffron, fennugreek, mustard seed… to name the well-known ones. We drove past many single culture spice plantations but there are also countless so called spice gardens where the farmers grow a mixture of many different species.

While in Periyar we visited one of these spice gardens and were lucky enough to have a guide who had studied botany. The spice garden was a lovely shady place and every few steps there grew another exotic tree or bush with flowers, buds, leaves, bark or fruit waiting to be smelled or tasted.

In the village spice markets lined a whole street, fresh produce being offered in big baskets alongside with packaged dried spices. Too bad we couldn’t take any home with us, Australian customs are strict.

As much as we look forward to eating all the food we are used to again back home, even the kids are wondering whether we are not going to miss the spices, whether some dishes are not going to taste boring. Ah well, luckily enough there is plenty of Indian food shops in Perth, where we will be able to stock up and satisfy any spice cravings.

 

The Indian Coffee House – cafe with a difference

While spending time in Kovalam we also visited Trivandrum (Thiruvananthapuram), the capital of Kerala. Feeling quite lazy with the humid heat we didn’t have great ambitions but definitely wanted to have a stroll in the zoo which got high praise in the tourist guide. An art gallery was also on the list as well as the Indian Coffee House.

The zoo was in fact rather nice. Shady paths between reasonably nice enclosures. Although it is always hard to enjoy a zoo after having been on safari. Watching animals in the wild is such an exhilarating experience. And somehow, whether this is just in my mind or true, all animals in captivity look so sad…
Not too far from the zoo we then visited an art gallery with many impressive artefacts of Indian history.
But the highpoint of the day was surely the Indian Coffee House. Coffee is by far not as popular as tea in India. We had seen a lot of coffee plantations in Wayanad, but I guess most of the produce goes into export. We had in fact tried some Indian coffee back in Perth before we left and had been rather impressed. And one of the guides had recommended this place for its curious architecture and good food.

Ok, cab driver, here we go, next stop Indian coffee house. The cab driver acknowledged our request with the usual head waggle and recommended to try the dosas.
The architecture of the place is indeed curious – like a spiral. Once inside we walked up that spiral to find some free places among the single line of tables that line the outside wall. It was quite crowded. Waiters with turbans hurrying up and down the slope, most visitors enjoying an early lunch. It didn’t really look like the coffee indulging place we expected… ah well, we were there so lets try it out. Eventually we found a free table, errr free seats I mean, the table was still full of half eaten food. It then  took about 10 minutes to attract the attention of one of the waiters who started clearing away the remains. Eventually we even get hold of a menu. Hmmm, mainly snacks and lunches. Any coffee??? Unless the beverage that gave this locality its name was disguised in some mysterious way, it was not on the menu. A coffee house without coffee? India is full of funny surprises 😉 The waiter unfortunately was not in a very funny mood. He constantly ignored us, didn’t even look at us when finally serving. Everybody was quite hungry by then. Several people around us who had come in way after us had already finished eating and were gone again. Well, not all people like white people, I guess.
The food was quite nice though, especially the dosas.
Trying to pay was another act requiring a lot of patience. I left to take Siobhan to the toilet… the smelliest toilet I had encountered so far in India… and that says a lot. Ian eventually left the money on the table.

Yeah, this was our experience of a non-conformist coffee house. There are dozens of restaurants, coffee places and other eateries in Kerala and of course Bangalore I can highly recommend. I guess the Indian Coffee House in Trivandrum would not be among them.

 

 

On Board the Moonlight

Although we only stayed on this wonderful boat for one night, it was enough to fascinate me for a lifetime and is an unforgettable memory. The whole adventure started when we arrived at the river where there was a whole city of houseboats. We were led down to the end of the flock where a particular houseboat named Moonlight was waiting. The crew, which was made up of three people – Bhijo the captain, James the engine operator (also sub captain) and Surish the cook, helped us carry our bags into the boat. As soon as we were all safely on board, the houseboat set off.

A houseboat passing

We were sitting on the deck as it rocked gently along, after a while, we stopped somewhere in the shade. I soon realised that it was time to have lunch. This meal consisted of deliciously cooked fish (which I suspect was freshly caught), beans, double boiled rice, coconut fried cabbage, mini pappads, sambar and fried okra. After another long time of watching the horizon, we spotted a duck farm. It was basically made up of a whole lot of ducks and one or two men in a canoe who had the job of herding the ducks.

A man herding the duck farm

Duck farm

We drove on till we stopped by a market to stretch our legs. After looking in a shop, we walked along the river for 15 minutes before turning back to go back to our houseboat. As we watched the rippling river, Surish brought over some delicious banana fritters which were very filling. At about five’o clock we arrived at a park which was the place where we were going to dock for the night. After a walk, a delicious dinner was brought over. This meal included dhal, potatoes and lots of other nice Indian dishes. Later in the evening we watched a sea of green float past and then went to bed because there was nothing else to do.

The sea of green

In the morning we woke early and had breakfast. Then we drove till we were back at the bridge where we had started. Bhijo even let me steer a bit on the way there!

Me – the captain

This is where the story of the houseboat ends and another begins. But I mustn’t tell you that one…

 

Kovalam – Indian Sea Side Resort

Hotel beach

Kovalam is supposed to be India’s best developed sea side resort, quite a dubious title. I am generally not a great fan of touristy beaches lined with hotels, but we were longing for a few days of just relaxing, strolling around and swimming in the sea, which we miss so much in Bangalore…

We were to stay in the Soma Palmshore Hotel. On arrival we get greeted with flower garland and a welcome drink, this time a traditional coconut with straw, hmmm, very tasty. Then an Aryuveda lady seeks our attention, showing us photographs of all the treatments available in the hotel’s aryuveda treatment centre. Errrr, I actually just want to go down to our cottages, it’s been a long drive. I wonder how enjoyable it is for an aryuveda therapist to work in a hotel occupied by European tourists and rich middle class Indians, applying the occasional massage rather than working in a regular treatment centre visited by the locals. Aryuveda is an amazing treatment / healing method, but to really benefit from it you need to undergo a regular or longer term treatment. A one-off massage might be quite relaxing but doesn’t really use the enormous potential of this method. However, Aryuveda clinics seem to be a standard facility in most bigger hotels in Kerala and particularly popular with Germans and Swiss people. No surprise then that we encounter the highest density of Germans in Kovalam rightly correlating to the density of big hotels…

But back to our hotel. Through the blossoming hibiscus bushes and various kinds of palm trees we can see the ocean. A few flights of steps lead through a garden down to the beach. All very picturesque. A security guard hangs around the bottom gate of the hotel. Some hotel staff are laying out washing on the grass to dry, a gardener is cutting the lawn with… well not nail scissors, but ordinary garden sheers. I guess his monthly income is lower then the cost of a lawnmower. The cottages are wonderfully cool… I just stretch out on the bed…

This time of year is actually off season. The monsoon is due to arrive and it is just too hot. Ian goes out to get some snacks for our lunch, when he comes back, having looked unsuccessfully for some kind of food shop for half an hour, he seems to have taken a bath. No, not in the swimming pool, just in his own sweat. We are used to a fair bit of heat but this humidity is a real killer. I had never been to anywhere as tropic as this, apart from some green houses in botanic gardens. The actual temperature during the day doesn’t go over mid 30ies, at night high twenties towards morning. The humidity oscillates between 65 and 99%. This is the first time in my life I leave the aircon on during the night…

Anyway, it is indeed quite relaxing for a while, just to hang around the hotel, frolic in the waves, enjoy the bathtub warm swimming pool, write some mails… In the evening we stroll down to Lighthouse beach. A long promenade of hotels, restaurants and souvenir shops lines this beautiful beach. The sun is down already and all the lights are glittering invitingly. We decide to walk along the prom to the end and then go for our dinner having inspected all the restaurants. There is quite a choice. Most restaurants face the sea and are open air. A menu will be on display outside and a waiter standing beside it trying to persuade every passer by to come inside. It can be rather tiring to decline for the 15th time, so maybe the 16th restaurant will have the most customers. Anyway, Kerala coast is famous for its delicious fish dishes. Many of the restaurants display a variety of fresh fish beside the menu. It is supposed to be inviting… I don’t know, I does the opposite to me. Especially in the places where the fish is not even cooled with some ice. It doesn’t dry out though, too humid here. Ah well, in the end the family vote goes to a pizzeria. Too much talk about rotten fish 😉

Mosques in Kovalam

The next day we walk towards some mosques we had seen in the distance. This is the opposite direction to the touristy bit of town.The main income source here is fishing. It doesn’t seem to be a very high income. Poverty is back in full view here. We watch a big group of man bringing in a fishing net for a while. About 20 of them pulling on on end of the net, 20 on the other, a couple swimming out to sea to guide the net in.
The mosques are very colourful, seem like some palaces out of 1001 nights. Looking around we can see the next bay and lots of people by the harbour. Is that some kind of celebration? Curious enough we decide to walk over. We are passing through the fishing village. Then there are big roofs which cover mountains of fishing nets and dozens of men sitting in between repairing them. Nearing the harbour we walk past what must be hundreds of boat engines hung up on horizontal logs. That’s how the fishermen go out – in little boats, not more then 5 – 6 meters long, with a little engine put in the rear. And then we arrive at the harbour. This is not a celebration, it’s a fish market! Ten, fifteen boats are at the shore with more of them coming in or leaving. In the boats on the shore the fishermen are handing big baskets or crates of silvery glittering fish to men on the beach who carry them away to the market or little trucks. A lot of shouting everywhere… maybe negotiating prices. This is like… middle ages? No, no engines in the middle ages. And carts instead of trucks. But apart from that?

The harbour

Mending the nets

Well, we watch the scenes for a little while then move on through the market as quickly as possible. The smell is overwhelming.
Ah yeah, one more thing… not a single white person in sight here… just 2 km down from the touristy promenade.

The days pass, we are relatively lazy by our standards – the humidity paralyses any potential enthusiasm for walks, outings or any other activity that involves moving around. I enjoy quiet mornings down by the beach practising yoga. The time around sunset is most popular for going out and walking / splashing at the beach. Especially with the Indians. Around midday one can spot a few pink bodies venturing into the waves. Even a lone surfer! At sunset the beach is sprawling with people, it is really crowded. Not many Indians can swim and swimming cloths the way we know them are not really common. This seems unusual to our eyes which are used to a lot of flesh on Australian beaches. The lack of flesh shouldn’t surprise as Indian women’s clothing is, while being very elegant, all about hiding rather than showing. Still, watching the women going for hip deep paddles in their sarees and salwar kameezes is a wondrous sight. Everybody is having fun… enjoying the breeze, splashing and paddling, holding hands stepping into the water or just walking along, chatting.

Sunset at the public beach

Restaurants and shops are all tuned into the clientele. One evening one of the restaurant waiters trying to get us in is even promising that they wouldn’t use any spices… What? For goodness sake, we like spicy! We’ve been living here for 3 months… Indian food without spices is like… elephants without trunks, summer without sun (hang on, that would be Ireland)… whatever… Nevertheless we very much enjoyed the “German Bakery”, serving Spaetzle, bacon and eggs, fried potatoes, etc.
99% of the shops sell exclusively souvenirs. Their range seems pretty much determined by European taste. Especially the choice of dresses and skirts is amazing. The only other place where I had seen skirts for sale was in the touristy bits of Periyar. (Apart from western style skirts in expensive boutiques in Bangalore)

Going in?

Well, all in all, a nice relaxing time here in Kovalam. I am sure this place had more charm 20 years ago, before it had been discovered by European package tourism operators. But on the other hand this business earns a living for many families in the area…

 

Kalaripayattu

While we were on our holiday we visited Periyar and while staying there we went to a Kalaripayattu presentation. This is the mother of all martial arts and is spectacular to watch…

First they performed a religious opening ceremony, and after that the real thing kicked in. It included mock fights with swords, daggers and other weapons were one mistake would have meant DEATH. In these mock fights they jumped very high and often struck sparks. These were breathtaking although at the end someone was always disarmed and after that the weapon-less person always won. This was because it would be hard to make the person with the sword win without killing the other fighter. After the mock fights they show how to use a bow staff. First with one and then with two which seemed almost to be touching. After that they lit both the staffs which resulted in an amazing show that looked like two rings of fire! Next they demonstrated how to use an urumi-sword / flexible-sword which looked impossible to block. The last act was jumping through a ring of fire. It was purely amazing.

Sword Fight

A twirling staff with fire on the end.

Two staffs with fire on the end.

Jump through the ring of fire.

Facts:

Kalaripayattu is the mother of all martial arts and was used by the lords of Kerala. It was used when two lords had an argument. It worked by each lord choosing a champion and the champions fighting instead of there being a full scale war. Here are two more pictures I found on the web.

How do they do it?

 

 

Chinese Fishing Nets

We only stayed in the beach-side city of Cochin for one day, but what an action packed day it was! We visited an ancient Dutch palace, a Jewish synagogue, a wash house, where dozens of people were washing, hanging up and ironing mountains of clothes, and St Francis Church, the oldest Christian church in India. Then we strolled down a blissfully shady path, passing through a miniature market where several people tried to sell us everything from wall prints to jewellery to Indian hand puppets, and walked down a walled street until we reached the beach.

The beach was the exact opposite of the stretches of pristine white sand and clear sapphire-blue water you’d find in Australia. Tattered fishing nets, filthy, foul smelling fish crates and and warped wooden fishing boats littered the rough shoreline, while the rubbish infested, slate grey sea did not look very inviting for swimmers. The smell of rancid fish laced the air like a vile brand of perfume, most of it floating over from the direction of an open air fish market further down the beach. But the biggest difference presented itself in the form of several huge wooden constructions that towered above the water. They were the Chinese fishing nets.

One of the Chinese Fishing Nets

After examining these strange creations for a while I realised they really were fishing nets, however unlikely it looked. At the back end, raised above the beach by some precariously balanced stilts, was a narrow wooden platform with a small shelter to protect workers from the raging heat of the sun. Further on was an incredibly complex system of levers and pulleys. Then, hanging just above the water level, there was a giant net.

As I watched, several of the workers activated the levers and pulleys, lowering the net. When the net was completely submerged the workers retreated into the shade. After about five minutes the workers braved the sun once more to hoist up the net from the water. I leaned forward, expecting to see masses of squirming fish, but the net was completely empty. Looking up and down the shore, I realised that most of the other nets looked empty too.

Our tour guide explained that the Chinese had introduced this style of fishing when they came to India in the 1350s, and it had become vastly popular. The Chinese fishing nets flourished up and down the coast of Cochin, bringing in truckloads of fish every day. They stayed successful for many years until, eventually times changed, and the fishing nets did not change with them. Hi-tech boats rocketed across the waves, entering the open ocean and catching fish before they had a chance make it to the shore. A huge tsunami several years back destroyed several of the fishing nets, and severely damaged others. Nowadays the Chinese fishing nets remain as an ancient relic, a gem from the past, there to show foreigners and tourists what it was like on the beaches of Cochin hundreds of years ago.

 

Train Experience

To make our journey more comfortable and interesting our tour operator had arranged for us to get the train from Calicut to Cochin.

Getting tickets is not exactly straight forward. I had looked into it when we were planning a trip from Bangalore to Mysore. The Indian Railway has an online booking system. I am not sure about non AC seats but seats in an AC car must often be pre-booked many weeks in advance as they are very popular.

Our driver brought us to the station. The platform was already crowded with over half an hour to go before the train departure. People seem to be travelling light… we probably had the most luggage of anybody with our three suitcases. The train arrived ten minutes early and we made our way to the right car. We were a bit nervous because Siobhan’s seat was issued for a different car. But when we got hold of the conductor (every car seems to have one) he tells us just to sit down together. Luckily enough there seemed to be a spare seat. The car was indeed pleasantly cool, air vents blowing down from the sealing and fans assisting them. The comfortable adjustable seats were arranged like in an airplane, 3 one side, 2 on the other and an aisle in the middle. Having said that the interior was not exactly sparkly. Everything made a heavily worn impression – torn, dirty, scratched. Well, this is India, so we have got well used to not expecting squeaky cleanliness anywhere. Nevertheless it took us a bit of effort to ignore the cockroaches crawling along the floor and walls while settling down for our 4 1/2 hour journey. Every 10 to 15 minutes somebody came walking along the aisle with big trays of snacks on their heads announcing the contents loudly to the passengers, coffee was also available.
Unfortunately our seats were at the very back of the car with no windows. To get a view I stepped outside and the view was indeed very clear as the doors of the train were open! Much to the delight of Sean and Siobhan who stuck their noses out into the wind holding on to me tightly.

The landscape flew past, Kerala landscape. The land of coconut – that’s what it means. And indeed coconut palms seem to be the main kind of tree. Other than that we saw fields, villages, forests… all lush green in the warm, humid climate.

Once the train stopped at a station it wasn’t supposed to as this was an express train. Despite the fact that there was no platform and nobody knew when the train would start moving again, dozens of people jumped off.

In the wobbly, airy bit between the cars we had the luxury of the choice between two toilets – Indian style and western style. Both of them granted a vertical view onto the rail track, something I still remember from train rides in my early childhood.

Time passed and it grew dark outside, no more to see. The children settled down to share our two e-readers and the ipad to read. That got us a few curious looks from passengers passing by… electronic family. Ah well, I don’t mind as long as they don’t just play some mindless computer games.

Eventually the person who had a ticket for Siobhan’s seat turned up, but after a discussion between him, the conductor and an apologetically smiling Ian the newcomer agreed to sit in the other car.

After 4 3/4 hours journey we reached our destination: Ernakulam junction, the closest train station to Cochin, our    next stop while travelling through beautiful Kerala.

 

Safari 3+4

Safari 3
Place: Muthanga Wildlife Sanctuary, Wayanad
Time: 3pm-4pm
The Safari:
We were all looking forward to going on a safari in Wayanad. Wayanad was famed for its amazing range of wildlife. I began to get my doubts when we headed out in the middle of the day. I knew that most animals were active at twilight or around twilight. After arriving we went straight to the reception and were told to wait. After some waiting we finally departed into the sanctuary. The actual safari: not much, a few elephants. Well at least it was interesting seeing how well the animals could hide. 😉

Safari 4:
Place: Periyar Lake
Time: 7am-9am
The Safari:
As we arrived at Periyar Lake we were stunned by the amazing scenery. Fog drifted over the lake in lazy spirals and trees poked bare branches out of the lake. But, unfortunately, the effect was ruined by a few hundred humans chattering excitedly. Our guide lead the way to the ticket counter to get our tickets. When the guide returned people were already shoving and pushing their way onto the narrow path leading to the boats. We stood back waiting for the throng to ease off a bit. Finally we walked down to the boat and boarded with our guide leading the way to our reserved seats. Yay, our seats were at the very front on the second level. At the start of the safari there were barely any wild animals, only a few wild boars with babies, but later we saw elephants coming down to drink, jackals, kingfishers and many more animals! Our guide identified a small black bird with an arrow tail, which seemed to be floating along behind it, as a black drogo. After that he identified many more animals. Unfortunately many of these animals were scared away because most of the people were talking loudly. It was a great safari!

   

White Neck Stork

Snake Bird

   

Jackals!

Indian Bison

And at the end we saw one of the world’s largest squirrels.
75cm<

 

Elephant Party

This post is about one of our adventures in Periyar, just one of our many stops in our two week holiday around Kerala. After a long drive down from Munnar, a mountain town specialising in the production of tea, and a quick stop at our hotel for lunch and a quick dip in the pool, we bundled ourselves back into our private minibus for our afternoon adventures. We picked up our tour guide for the day and visited a spice plantation, where we saw dozens of spices including pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and cloves and tasted some freshly picked cardamom, before setting off once more to have some real fun… at an elephant park.

Our first near death experience occurred just outside the elephant park. Two huge buses were parked mere millimetres away from each other, leaving a minuscule crack that an insect would have had difficulty squeezing through. Our driver drove fearlessly towards this tiny gap, ignoring the fact that even light was having difficulty in forcing itself through the virtually non-existent path. My blood ran cold as we inched further and further towards the tiny gap and certain death. Seconds before entering the passage of doom our desperate tour guide managed to convince the courage driver that we would be fine to walk the last few metres. What would have been our last drive was halted just centimetres from the death-trap. Whew!

After walking up a winding gravel road into the forest we came to a large clearing. There were people everywhere, sitting around on long wooden benches, talking loudly to each other, wandering around looking confused. Most of the commotion was situated at a step of rickety steps leading up to an unstable looking platform. Both the steps and the platform were packed with people gesturing wildly and stamping their feet like a stampede of buffalo. Children dashed around in mad circles, seemingly uninterested in the confusing chatter of the adults. My eyes allowed me only a second to take in this scene of chaos before latching onto the excited group of Chinese tourists at the edge of the platform. They were laughing giddily as they scrambled onto a… onto a… At this point my brain went into a fast freeze, refusing to process the image of the huge elephant waiting patiently for the Chinese tourists to climb on. I knew it had said ‘elephant ride’ on our day plan but I hadn’t expected, well, this. I mean, the biggest animal I’d ever been on was one of those tiny ponies they have at circuses, the ones with the size and speed of a dead snail. This would be a colossal step forward in terms of my animal riding experiences. Literally.

We watched the elephant with the Chinese tourists lumber slowly down a lumpy dirt path until it disappeared behind the trees. Then we found ourselves one of the many gnarled wooden benches and sat down to wait our turn. By sat down I mean that my brother and my sister immediately ran off to explore with Olympic sprinter enthusiasm and I busied myself with planning strategies for not falling from the elephant and dying a grisly death. After a little while an exhausted looking worker hurried over and hastily told us that it would be a maximum fifteen minutes wait until it was our turn. About thirty minutes later he hustled back and told us, looking extremely tired and stressed, that it was now our turn. Heart pounding with a a mixture of fear and anticipation, I followed him and the others towards the platform.

We scrambled up the wooden steps, which were as unstable as they looked, and onto the platform. Here the worker had a brief but intense argument with one unhappy family who had been waiting far longer than us (being a white foreigner has its privileges) which ended with my dad, brother and sister being bundled onto the waiting elephant before it could turn into a full scale war. I watched their elephant lurch into the distance as my mum struggled to take some pictures before they disappeared, not sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

We waited on the ominously creaking platform for about another fifteen minutes before the next elephant trundled slowly into view. My heart started pounding faster again. The thought ‘I am definitely going to fall off’ had taken up permanent residence in my head. After a torturous wait of what felt like hours, the elephant finally reached the side of the platform. Just as I was about to launch into panic attack mode, the unhappy family, who had morphed into the extremely angry family, charged into the picture. The poor worker didn’t stand a chance. Mere seconds later, the now cheerful family climbed triumphantly onto the elephant and disappeared in a cloud of dust. The wait began once more.

Far too soon another elephant parked itself next to the platform. Two adults and numerous tiny children slithered off, looking faintly sick but happy. Their smiling faces did nothing to calm my raging nerves. Before I had a chance to protest I was hastily hustled onto the broad back of the elephant, where I immediately focused all my attention on not falling off. I hunted desperately for a seatbelt, a safety harness or, well, anything while my mum clambered on behind me, but there was nothing. The only thing protecting me from falling to my death was a tiny pair of wooden handles that you were supposed to hold onto. I gripped them tightly enough to make my knuckles turn white, and had time for one deep, steadying breath before we were off.

The first step was even worse than I’d feared. I felt like I was trapped in the middle of an earthquake. I was bounced about twenty metres above the elephant (okay, so maybe it was more like twenty millimetres but the effect was just as scary) and my stomach turned several somersaults in rapid succession. I dug my  fingers into the handles and gritted my teeth. Just as I was managing to regain my fragile grip on calmness, the elephant took another step forward and my position atop the coarse blanket slipped just the tiniest fraction. Holding my breath, I sank as far back into the blanket as I could and dug my feet into the stirrup-like things that dangled over the elephant’s sides. Trying not to panic, I braced myself for the next step.

The step was bad, but not as bad as the first. Instead of being a gigantic lurch it was more of a mixture of lurching and swaying. I allowed myself to loosen my death grip on the handles, and even managed to direct a chunk of my mind away from thoughts of falling and towards the view. At that moment our elephant was plodding out of the noisy clearing and down a gentle slope into the cool, quiet, depths of the forest. I felt my body become accustomed to the movements of the elephant as I watched the leaves rustle lazily in the trees and a pheasant streak across the forest like a brightly coloured dream. Eventually I even mustered up the courage to let go of one of the handles and stroke the elephant’s neck, which was warm and covered with thick, brittle hairs.

I soon realised that our elephant was new to the job as she had to be led along by one of the staff, unlike the elephants in front and behind us, who just trundled peacefully along without any guidance whatsoever. At first I worried that this would mean she would lose control and go on a wild rampage through the forest, but when time passed and nothing happened I eventually relaxed. However, about halfway through the ride, the elephant suddenly stopped. ‘Oh no,’ I thought, ‘She’s about to go on a rampage.’ I peered over the elephant’s shoulder and saw a flash of green streak across my vision. Huh? Looking closer, I saw that the elephant was holding a large, leafy branch in her trunk. With a contented sigh she opened her mouth wide and took a huge bite. I had to laugh as I watched the worker who had been leading the elephant try in vain to make her move, commanding her to go in a brisk voice, loudly repeating her name, and even rapping her lightly on the leg with a stick. But the elephant refused to budge until she had completely finished her highly nutritious, afternoon snack. 🙂

Sadly, it was now time to return to where we had started. We had just reached the edge of the clearing, and I was saying a silent goodbye to the peaceful forest and the wonderful elephant who had carried us, when the elephant leader asked if we wanted any pictures. My mum cautiously extracted the camera from her shoulder bag and gingerly passed it down to him. He only managed to snap one or two hasty pictures before my dad, whose elephant ride had already ended, rushed up for his turn with the camera.

My dad was just snapping the fourth or fifth picture (after all, it never hurts to have spares) when my brother dashed over to us, proudly yelling that his elephant’s name was Usha. Upon hearing this I resolved to ask about our elephant’s name, so that I would have something more concrete than an image to remember her by, but my brother beat me to it, marching right up to the elephant leader and boldly asking his question. But what he got wasn’t certainly wasn’t what he expected! Instead of answering his question the elephant leader wrapped an arm around his waist and promptly hoisted him onto the elephant!!! My brother was too astonished to formulate a proper protest. Luckily he managed to grab my mum’s hand before he fell straight back onto the ground. 😉

My brother… the impostor

Elephant Ride 🙂

Shortly afterwards, I found myself sliding clumsily off the elephant’s back, the ride was over. I gave her a last farewell rub on the neck and waved her goodbye as I wobbled my way off the platform and down the wooden stairs. I half expected that to be the end, but the fun wasn’t over yet. Now we were going to… wash an elephant!

We followed our tour guide and one of the staff up a gentle slope back into the forest. I’d only walked a few steps when I had the unearthly feeling of being watched. Spinning around, I saw not a ghost, but a female elephant with peaceful brown eyes and the most adorable splatter of freckle-like spots around her trunk. Greatly relieved that I wasn’t being haunted, I grinned at her and continued up the slope.

After a few more minutes we reached a small path that forked off the larger one and led to a shallow stone basin.  The water in the basin was a suspicious murky brown and the stench rising from the basin made my eyes water unpleasantly. Leaves floated lazily about…  and suddenly started swirling frantically as the elephant shuffled past me and calmly stepped into the water. The two men who had led her up kicked off their shoes and leaped in after her. I watched as the two men shouted a command and the elephant obediently crouched, a position I imagine would be seriously hard to contort your body into when your legs are as thick as tree trunks. Then, with a world-weary sigh that seemed to say, ‘Just get it over with’ she lowered herself even further down until she was lying flat on the floor of the basin.

Our tour guide watched me expectantly until I cautiously clambered into the basin after my brother and sister, holding my breath against the stink that wafted up from the water like an evil serpent. The two men, who were both already wielding huge brushes, motioned for us to come closer as they began their elephant washing demonstration. First they started scrubbing viciously at the elephant’s hide, before splashing cascades of filthy water in all directions. Then, with the demonstration over, they grinned happily and continued with their work.I waded through the water to the edge where a my own brush was waiting for me. It was even more colossal up close,  like a brush fit for a… well, an elephant. With the brush sitting securely in my hand I shuffled carefully back to the elephant, trying not to tread in whatever it was that made the water smell so foul. I started at the elephant’s leg, giving it a few tentative strokes at first, then rubbing harder once I realised the elephant probably wouldn’t feel anything through her thick, leathery skin. I started to feel sorry for the elephant, who had to lie there in muddy (and God knows what else) water with her legs splayed out in an almost painfully uncomfortable position. I decided to make it up to her by making her as tidy and clean as I possibly could.

Mission Elephant Wash

Me, my brother and my sister soon fell into the soothing rhythm of washing the elephant by rubbing, scrubbing and washing. My brother seemed to enjoy the last part the most, splashing so vigorously that most of the water hit me even when I was on the other side of the elephant! Me and my sister worked on the elephant’s right side, while my brother worked on the left. The two professional elephant washers took care of the elephant’s head, thoroughly scrubbing the trunk and face.

Eventually my brother and my sister abandoned the murky basin but I stayed, far too busy with the state of the elephant’s toenails to leave. The state of these toenails all but broke my heart. The were brown, stained, muddy, filthy, chipped and cracked. I scrubbed desperately at them, lovingly rubbing at the worn edges and forcing the brittle hairs of my brush into even the tiniest grooves. I was just wondering how I could start a charity to raise money for the care of elephant toenails, when our tour guide announced that it was time for an elephant shower. I wasn’t sure exactly what this was, but it sounded fun, so I volunteered to go first.

Almost as soon as I’d spoken, one of the elephant washers wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me onto the now clean elephant, which had risen into a kneeling position. I sat there, motionless, feeling dumb and confused. How was I supposed to have a shower here? I watched as some of the staff moved a bucket of clean water onto the ledge and the elephant dipped her trunk into it, feeling more baffled than ever. Maybe the elephant wanted to have a drink and then I was meant to have shower a – ARRRGH WATER EXPLOSION!!!!!!!!!! Water from the elephant’s trunk cascaded around me in a freezing waterfall. At last the barrage ended, leaving me drenched and shivering. Blinking water out of my eyes, I looked down at my brother, sister, mum and dad, who were giving me open-mouthed goldfish gapes. I grinned proudly down at them. This was awe – OH NO WATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I shortly discovered that, as well as having a Round 2, the elephant shower also had a Round 3, 4 ,5 ,6 and 7. By the time I slithered unsteadily from the elephant’s back I was freezing cold and soaked to the bone. My drenched  shorts clung to me like a second skin, my T-shirt held enough liquid to fill a swimming pool and my dripping hair was giving me its own shower. I stumbled out of the pool, my teeth chattering, where someone was kind enough to hand me a towel. It was a scary but fun experience!

ELEPHANT SHOWER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Morals of this true story:

1. Elephant rides are not as scary as they look.
2. Elephant toenails are an endangered species. We must save them while we can.
3. ELEPHANT SHOWERS ARE AWESOME!!!