Busted Digits, Burgeoning Quads & Martial Arts with Fire

20130428-192431.jpgAfter a massively successful safari trek at the Periyar Tiger Reserve, in which we stumbled upon wild bison, elephants, and were told of how the indigent people use bamboo spikes to ascend 70 foot trees to steal honeycombs from gigantic bees’ nests, we enjoyed the entertaining Kalaripayattu, one of the oldest forms of martial arts and originating in Kerala.


I had an arbitrary goal of cycling a continuous 70km (50 miles), but I busted my finger on a pool lounge chair, so Josh had to represent on the bicycle as we made the final descent down the mountains to the backwaters.

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Our quads and hamstrings are ginormous (relative to someone who has spent the past 10 years sitting at a computer 8 hours a day). We had our last ride in the flat lands of the backwaters of Kottayam, and were pretty impressive in the speed department (… our speed department) for a good 30km. Bottom left photo in collage below is us with some friendly locals in Munnar who asked to take a photo with us.


After over a week of homestays I called it quits on the cultural experience, and we cancelled our rice boat reservation and headed for the hotel a day early. As far as we can tell, the rice boats are a recent river-polluting invention for tourists, and given the oppressive heat and humidity, it didn’t seem like it would be that fun to sit on the deck, and it didn’t seem that cool to sit in the AC cabin of some slow-moving water vessel that had no cultural heritage.20130428-192314.jpg

Bring on the beer, bring on the pool.


Josh and our homestay host hiding out under a banana tree in Adimali while the rain storm passes.


Kerala: Cycling in “God’s Own Country”

The first day of cycling was far and away the best day of this trip. It was gorgeous, our guide and driver are awesome to be with, and we are mastering mountains we would have bet money we couldn’t conquer. All the inane clichés apply, and the name the Indians have given to this land – “God’s Own Country” – is the most adequate way to describe the deeply verdant jungles, flowers and fields of tea, banana, pineapple, jack fruit, papaya, mango, vanilla, cinnamon, cardamom, tapioca, and too many other things to name. These plants are landscaped across the mountains of the hill country or “hill stations” as the Indians call them, and each day we ride through kilometer after kilometer of breathtaking life in the hills.


The people mostly wave excitedly as we ride by, but some gawk, and a newspaper truck even photographed the crazy foreigners puffing up these hills (it is an offense to non-professional cyclers trudging up these hills that they aren’t considered mountains, but such are the insensitive categories of science). After a lifetime of recreational cycling (mostly to the bars on sunny spring days), we are becoming intimate for the first time with first and second gears, which we have spent consecutive hours in the past couple days. During the Buddhist retreat we practiced eating and walking meditation – a zen-ish attending to each bite and step taken. Cycling meditation is, as Josh says, absolutely requisite to make it up the hills. Yesterday the middle 20km of our trek was almost all uphill, and it requires a very singular mindset to plod along, in the tortoise-speed of first gear, unforgiving wind of the mountain (yes, I am going to call these hills mountains) after unforgiving wind.

While our muscles have adjusted surprisingly fast (not to say we aren’t sore, but we’re not dying; maybe because we go so slow), even our cycle diapers cannot prevent the punishment of unpadded seats on the underside of the pelvic bones, and we ease down gingerly after raising up onto our pedals to accommodate potholes and the occasional speed bump. We continue to be astounded by our ability to push through these rides, so far only once opting to be “transported” (loading the bikes and ourselves into the truck; we love the kind euphemism) for the final 20km, which we were told was all uphill and even steeper than the previous 20km had been. Mindfully watching the incline during this transport, we had no regrets; plus, we’d already gone more than twice as far as we’d ever ridden a bike, and more uphill kilometers than the previous 30 years of existence combined.

DHGate Cycling Underwear

DHGate Cycling Underwear

We have been at camps or homestays so far, getting a unique taste of boonie-hill-country residencies and home cooking. There is little hot water, so we fill up a bucket with the warm water and bathe out of that. I have pretty much renounced washing my hair, electing to distribute the grime of my sweaty scalp through my lovely locks with a brush in an effort to avoid dreadlocks.


Our Luxury Tent


Inside the Tent

But we are loving this trip even more than we hoped, and it is passing all too fast.

Till we connect again


Views from Homestay in Adimali: Karadipara




Communism, Asian Novels, & the Peaceful Shores of Kerala

We made our way down to the backwaters of Kerala and have spent the past couple days in Cochin. As were the mountains in North India, so the beaches in South are a welcome reprieve from the dry heat, crowds and unforgiving cuisine of the Northern cities. Electricity and internet are inconsistent and virtually unavailable, respectively, though we are roughing it (Josh calls it 5-star camping) in the boonies. And the procurement of alcohol has become even more difficult.

But this state, which boasts 100% literacy (we are curious what the operational definition of literacy is …) and has been alternately governed by a communist (Left Democratic Front) and a democratic (United Democratic Front) party since late 1970s,  is stunningly clean, with impeccably swept streets and lacking the piles of rubble and incomplete edifices that pervade the other 5 states we’ve visited. Communism sure seems appealing …

Josh discovered an Indian best seller in the airport – The Shiva Trilogy – and has sped through the first two books in our lazy couple days of reading by the seaside. The trilogy gives a fantastical glimpse into the world of the greatest Hindu Gods, (we’ve heard there are somewhere between 3 and 33 million) as they grew from heroic humans to gain God status on Earth. Josh says their a good mix of Conan and the Hobbit, albeit on Hinduism.

I have finally had the time to indulge in some novels about Muslim culture, including Growing Up bin Laden, Osama bin Laden’s wife’s autobiography; Taliban Escape! One Woman’s Journey Out of Hell, as intense a depiction of the horror side of being a Muslim woman as one could hope to find; and Love in a Headscarf, which so far seems like a depiction of the wonderful side of being a modern Muslim woman, with the peace and strength that Islam offers its believers, and the security that the family and societal structure offer. The main character anticipates the interviews with families of potential husbands as a young girl might anticipate a Quincinera. Unfortunately, I only have the sample on my kindle, and it is uncertain when we will have internet access …

Peace from the peaceful shores of Cochin-j&d