It's not malaria.
I bring you this update from the South. On numerous
occasions, I felt the urge to write and provide the accounts of our
trip but instead traveling took over as our modus operandi. I'm also
getting chances to write postcards to those who requested them,
although they got soaked in what was known as the “big blank” when
we were in Kodaikanal.
I wanted to emphasize the grit of India after
reading White Tiger but
after living through the cleansing mist storms up at 6600 feet in
Kodaikanal, I quickly forgot what it was to be disgusted. You see,
the mountains were covered in completely opaque rain and fog for
nearly two days and it suddenly became too hard to remember the filth while the world was washing
us clean. And to emphasize how clean it should become, it conspired
with our laundry and travel mission. We had a soaked bucket of
dirty, sooty clothing for a few days, as we were too sick from
that week's temporary influenza to deal with them, when clouds
moved in and ruined any opportunity to dry the attire. Jordan and I
were bedewed and cold for the two days before New Year's, unable to
put on our then-sudsy longer layers. I'd improvised a clothesline in
the toilet room but the moist, chilled air prevented anything from
drying. Remarkably, the clouds dissipated in time for our ten second
countdown and we spent a half hour sometime in the early morning
drunkenly awing at the now seeable sky. It was as if the mist and
rain of the past days had washed away the shit year I'd had and was
now allowing us to proceed with a tabula rasa.
I'm not sure if
it was the numbing of the Northern cold that clouded our minds enough to
distract from the filth, but venturing South exposed a number of
unpleasant layers we'd deal with soon. Holiday travelers had booked
many of the trains we researched and previously relied upon, changing
our viable transport to buses. The bumbling shit-carriages are
surprisingly convenient, what with their constant departures,
opportunistic rest stops, and cheap
fares. We were avoiding their locomotion because we read about
expensive pricing but found silly fares in place of those written in
books and the web. For instance, in Pondicherry, we used a local bus
to get to and from town for, wait for it... six cents a head. Longer
tours ran from a buck to four. Snagging one wasn't ever really an
issue except at late hours and we saved a bunch of money by not
eating for long stretches, instead focusing on reading and looking
out the windows.
Gone
are the days of worrying about hot water heaters working and the
efficiency of our woolen layers to keep us warm. Though we've stayed
at higher elevations, which are a joyous anomaly in the swelter of
the south, we're going to slowly acclimatize to being sticky, finding
relief in cold showers. We've also tacked on a group of
globetrotters, a new dynamic to our regular solo method of travel. A
couple from Australia, Pete and Vanessa, were met couch-surfing in
Pondicherry and later met up with us for New Year's to join us and our
other new friends, Felix from Germany; and Noga and Michelle from
Israel. It's festive to be in a group but coordinating for 7 people
is quite cumbersome so we split up and relay travel plans to meet up.
In a couple of hours, we'll be together on a houseboat, navigating
the Keralan backwaters. We're eating well and sleeping well, if we
can deal with the mosquitoes effectively.