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Home Away from Home
Fort Cochin, March 24 - 30
Fort Cochin called to us from the guidebook. The map looks a lot like a map of San Francisco... a thumb of land surrounded by the sea, connected to the mainland by several bridges and ferries, with a few small islands as cozy neighbors. There are cargo ships in the harbour, small fishing boats that float along with dolphins at play in the sun-glittered water, and a lighthouse off in the distance that shines upon on the Lakshadweep Sea at night.
Fort Cochin is part of a larger city known as Kochi, a cluster of islands and narrow peninsulas in central Kerala. It's a laid-back place -- mellow -- with a slow pace and an intimacy that pricks the romantic's heart... a gem in the hurly burly world of India.
Often, the intrigue of a place cannot be truly known, or fully appreciated, without knowledge of its history. An otherwise ordinary town can turn into a mythical place from a dream -- not that Fort Cochin is ordinary. Its sunsets massage the sky into colors of cotton candy that make the mouth water, colors of tart purple and sizzling pink. The tropical air is steamy, heavy with a creative spirit that can be found in traditional Keralan dance and musical performances, and in contemporary art galleries. It is a place where trees are worshiped; where the streets are lined with signs adorned with poems and witty quips, philosophizing on life and beauty.
Fort Cochin's narrow streets are lined with mosques, churches, temples, and homes that whisper tales of the Portugese, Dutch, and British captors of the past. The Portugese captured it in the early 1500s, only to lose it to the Dutch Protestants in 1663, who lost it to the British in the late 1700s.
Giant catilevered Chinese fishing nets, called 'Cheena Vala' in Malayalam (the Keralan language) line the coconut-strewn beach. They were introduced by traders from the court of Kublai Kahn, back in 1350. The enormous fishing nets hang from bamboo or teak posts, which operate as giant levers that haul the net -- and fish -- from the sea and require 6 men to operate, tugging and pulling on the primitive counterweights, a series of large rocks tied with rope.
The spicy aroma of Cinnamon, Cumin, Tumeric, and Cloves fills the air of the spice market in Jew Town, an historic home to Jews who fled Palestine 2,000 years ago. A synagogue was erected there in 1586, destroyed by the Portugese in 1662, and rebuilt by the Dutch in 1664. Nowadays, the Jewish population is down to a few families -- the others lost to the migration to Israel -- but the spice market is in full swing, mostly occupied by curio and antique shops that could eat up entire afternoons with wistful browsing of trinkets, statues, jewelry -- even whole pieces of ancient buildings.
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We spent more time in Fort Cochin than the three nights we'd planned... in fact, we spent 6 nights there -- not by choice, but it's not like we minded. It is a nice place. Transportation issues (read incompetence of the Indian rail system) 'stranded' us in Kochi, making us something like honorary residents. We couldn't walk down the street or turn the corner without the call, "Hello! My friend!" The call came from the boys at the restaurants where we hung out, of course, and were usually directed at Benjamin. It's not that he's more likeable than me (although some of you may disagree), it's just that males and females don't really mingle in India outside of the home -- and I'm making an assumption that they mingle IN the home as I've never witnessed it in person. Once, to my surprise, I heard someone yell out, "Sher-eeeen! Hello!" But it was just the guy with the dirty-old-man-vibe.
We made some friends, Rajeesh and Ansar, who we spent a few evenings with. We learned a lot about Indian culture from them (more on that to come), and they learned about America from us. Rajeesh even taught me some nasty words to say to the dirty-old-man types. He and Ansar thought it was so funny to teach us the words they were nearly rolling in the grass with laughter. I still don't know what their English equivalents are, so I'll use them with restraint.
Our last day, Rajeesh and Ansar took us on a tour of the city, which included the usual sights -- the ones which were closed on Good Friday -- a visit to the barber for Benjamin, and a trip to the Coconut Toddy shop (a non-alcoholic drink). The two of them, with honest and loving souls, are good for India. Or rather, good for our perception of Indian. They polished the tarnish from our hearts...
Fort Cochin called to us from the guidebook. The map looks a lot like a map of San Francisco... a thumb of land surrounded by the sea, connected to the mainland by several bridges and ferries, with a few small islands as cozy neighbors. There are cargo ships in the harbour, small fishing boats that float along with dolphins at play in the sun-glittered water, and a lighthouse off in the distance that shines upon on the Lakshadweep Sea at night.
Fort Cochin is part of a larger city known as Kochi, a cluster of islands and narrow peninsulas in central Kerala. It's a laid-back place -- mellow -- with a slow pace and an intimacy that pricks the romantic's heart... a gem in the hurly burly world of India.
Often, the intrigue of a place cannot be truly known, or fully appreciated, without knowledge of its history. An otherwise ordinary town can turn into a mythical place from a dream -- not that Fort Cochin is ordinary. Its sunsets massage the sky into colors of cotton candy that make the mouth water, colors of tart purple and sizzling pink. The tropical air is steamy, heavy with a creative spirit that can be found in traditional Keralan dance and musical performances, and in contemporary art galleries. It is a place where trees are worshiped; where the streets are lined with signs adorned with poems and witty quips, philosophizing on life and beauty.
Fort Cochin's narrow streets are lined with mosques, churches, temples, and homes that whisper tales of the Portugese, Dutch, and British captors of the past. The Portugese captured it in the early 1500s, only to lose it to the Dutch Protestants in 1663, who lost it to the British in the late 1700s.
Giant catilevered Chinese fishing nets, called 'Cheena Vala' in Malayalam (the Keralan language) line the coconut-strewn beach. They were introduced by traders from the court of Kublai Kahn, back in 1350. The enormous fishing nets hang from bamboo or teak posts, which operate as giant levers that haul the net -- and fish -- from the sea and require 6 men to operate, tugging and pulling on the primitive counterweights, a series of large rocks tied with rope.
The spicy aroma of Cinnamon, Cumin, Tumeric, and Cloves fills the air of the spice market in Jew Town, an historic home to Jews who fled Palestine 2,000 years ago. A synagogue was erected there in 1586, destroyed by the Portugese in 1662, and rebuilt by the Dutch in 1664. Nowadays, the Jewish population is down to a few families -- the others lost to the migration to Israel -- but the spice market is in full swing, mostly occupied by curio and antique shops that could eat up entire afternoons with wistful browsing of trinkets, statues, jewelry -- even whole pieces of ancient buildings.
-----
We spent more time in Fort Cochin than the three nights we'd planned... in fact, we spent 6 nights there -- not by choice, but it's not like we minded. It is a nice place. Transportation issues (read incompetence of the Indian rail system) 'stranded' us in Kochi, making us something like honorary residents. We couldn't walk down the street or turn the corner without the call, "Hello! My friend!" The call came from the boys at the restaurants where we hung out, of course, and were usually directed at Benjamin. It's not that he's more likeable than me (although some of you may disagree), it's just that males and females don't really mingle in India outside of the home -- and I'm making an assumption that they mingle IN the home as I've never witnessed it in person. Once, to my surprise, I heard someone yell out, "Sher-eeeen! Hello!" But it was just the guy with the dirty-old-man-vibe.
We made some friends, Rajeesh and Ansar, who we spent a few evenings with. We learned a lot about Indian culture from them (more on that to come), and they learned about America from us. Rajeesh even taught me some nasty words to say to the dirty-old-man types. He and Ansar thought it was so funny to teach us the words they were nearly rolling in the grass with laughter. I still don't know what their English equivalents are, so I'll use them with restraint.
Our last day, Rajeesh and Ansar took us on a tour of the city, which included the usual sights -- the ones which were closed on Good Friday -- a visit to the barber for Benjamin, and a trip to the Coconut Toddy shop (a non-alcoholic drink). The two of them, with honest and loving souls, are good for India. Or rather, good for our perception of Indian. They polished the tarnish from our hearts...
posted by Cheryn at 3:11 PM
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