Getting started in Kerala

So I spent the next few days basically acclimatising to 'the Indian way' as it certainly was a bit of a culture shock, and recovering from the hectic week before my departure from the UK. When, on day one, I finally emerged from my hotel bed and summoned up the courage to face the street, which was sounding increasingly more daunting through the window, I think I must have stood there with the most gourmless expression on my face. In my jaded stunned state I just wanted more than anything to blend in to the background, and because everything was so unfamiliar I felt like I did exactly the opposite (and no doubt I did). Anyway I gradually found my feet, largely thanks to making a total fool out of myself in a variety of situations - like boldly thinking veg biryani was a vegetable curry and ordering it accompanied by 2 Kerala Paratha breads, only to be confronted wth more carbohydrate than I normally eat in a week (as is pretty common knowledge apparently, biryani is a rice dish!). As well as confusing the waiter by leaving the majority of the meal untouched, it just felt wrong to waste good food - it simply is, when everywhere you look here there are emaciated people in dire need of a simple meal. Another of my many memorable restaurant blunders was when I innocently went into a restaurant and sat down at an empty table alone, much to the amusement of the couple sat at the neighbouring four-person table, who were clearly expecting me to sit with them. The concept of personal space here is basically non-existent and, as with many things, space isn't wasted - why sit on your own at a new table when you can fill up an incomplete one? Rightly so. So I quickly learnt to nestle up with my fellow diners, even if it does mean that they can stare at you even more intently as you make a total horlicks of trying to eat your dinner with your fingers (one guy who I later sat opposite in Trichy was clearly so offended by my technique that he tried - incomprehensibly - to communicate to me the error of my ways - but soon gave up as I think he thought me a lost cause. He seemed visably irritated by my incompetance). Anyway, thankfully the couple seemed to find it more amusing than offensive - bloody stupid foreigners.

That's one thing that I really love about Indians. If you do something wrong, they let you know about it and put you right. If you don't know how to go about some incomprehensable ritual or custom, they will simply show you the way. There's no big deal, no making you feel like an idiot - well, not for longer than is absoltely necessary - just a simple telling you how it should be so that you can have the benefit of the knowledge and then it's over and done with, relatively quick and painless. I find this honesty and frankness so refreshing. I realise I have grown up in a culture that often tells me that I should know this-that-or-the-other, and if I don't it's something to be ashamed of and I probably shouldn't publicise it, best to just paper of the cracks and try to fit in. In a similar vein, how common is the person in Britain who will get up and tell that person to please turn off their irritating loud stereo in the quiet coach, compared to the rest who sit there silently condemning the offender, getting totally worked up in their own internal anger, but doing bugger all about it? I know its the infamous British stiff upper lip but I'm just realising how unnecessary and how poisenous it is. Finding myself in this culture where it's ok to make mistakes as people genuinely treat it as a learning curve, I'm gaining the confidence to continually embrace ever new and initially intimidating situations and experiences - because 9 times out of 10 someone will be looking to help me out and show me the ropes (even is they also want to make 10 rupees out of me at the same time). Most endearingly, this frankness, basically a simpler, more honest approach to life and learning, seems to create a people who are less complex and paranoid and more open and accepting. This attitude - helped I think by the heat - seems to extend too to the animals - cows, goats, dogs, cats, all living on a bizarre level of harmonious acceptance. Of course I'm generalising, but it's definitely a common trend.

Not that it's all sunshine and roses. Far from it, the laid back aspect of Indian culture can sometimes be a little frustrating in its indulgence. On day two in Trivandrum, I had my first bureucratic exravaganza trying to change 200 pounds into Indian rupees. Having been forewarned that this can be bit of a saga, I deliberatly chose a large and official-looking bank, the main branch of The State Bank of Kerala. Perhaps this was my error. When I finally managed to find the 'correct' department, which was a mission in itself, it then took me no less than an hour and a half to change my money. And there was no queue, in fact no other visible customers. After waking up the lady behind the counter who was enjoying an afternoon nap on her desk, I then had to fill out countless forms, including one noting down the serial number of every single one of the British notes I was changing. Once I had completed this part of the performance, she then re-entered all of the info into one of an enormous pile of large, dusty, torn, ancient-looking leather-bound data books (these were piled high on every desk in the room). This then got passed back to the more senior clerk sat at the desk behind her, who was slowly making his way through an enormous pile of similar-looking books, every now and then consulting the queen of operations who sat at the back appearing to do absolutely nothing. No urgency, mind, because I was sat there waiting to change some money - my matter would be dealt with once he had waded his way through his obviously very pressing pile. After a good 45 minutes, he got to my pile and, without even casting his eye over all the hard work myself and the junior clerk had done, took me back downstairs to the cashier and instructed him to give me my money, leaving me to wonder why we had bothered going through all of this preamble. And let it suffice to say that this next process took another age, as the cashier scrupulously counted and recounted every rupee before allowing them into my dangerous hands. At the end of the mission, after I was finally awarded my prize, I asked for a receipt. Apparently this is unheard of, 'not normal procedure madam.' All I could think to myself was: 'how very bizarre. I sit there and watch this long-winded, unnecessary bureucratic performance unfold and at the end of it I am not entitled to any record to tell me what I got in exchange for my money, but they have books full of data, noting every last serial number, that clearly noone is ever going to cast an eye over.' ASTOUNDING!

Anyway as a city I wasn't overly taken with Trivandrum but that might have been because I was still finding my feet and wasn't really feeling top dog due to general London exhaustion combined with hay fever and the onset of a horrid cold, toppled by intense heat in a big noisy city. Rumours had told me that it is a mellow city but that wasn't really my experience. So after a few days of noise and smog and a visit to the Zoo (not my normal kind of passtime but apparently one of the city highlights......?) and a few local temples, I finally plucked up the energy and courage to brave the bus down South. Still feeling a little intimidated by the prospect of public transport, I have to say I was tempted to take the easy taxi option, as they are relatively pretty cheap, especially for a relatively short (4-hour) hop. But thankfully I managed to find the courage to start as I intended to go on, and without too much difficulty (save being nearly run over several times in the chaos that it Trivandrum Bus Station) found myself in the luxury of a seat on a bus down to India's most Southern tip. I have since used the buses almost daily in my route through Kerala and Tamil Nadu, and can safely say I now finally feel fairly comfortable with the system; that is, after countless blunders, like putting my luggage in the 'incorrect' place, stealing the conductor's seat (both have specific locations which appear to be particular to each Indian state), parking myself next to men when apparently I should sit next to women if at all possible (at least in some areas), a couple of times falling on my face trying to ascend or desend the steps with my overloaded cargo, and last but not least getting off for a pee-stop somewhere in the hills of Tamil at about 2am and returning to find my bus (with my luggage aboard) pulling out of the bus station. I don't think screaming, flailing Western women are a common sight in those parts and I was certainly made to feel that my kind of hysteria was a little unnecessary. Really, madam, no need to get excited. Ahem.