India's Southernmost tip

The journey down South was relatively painless - in fact I remember loving every minute of my first Indian bus ride, watching the sights, sounds and smells of India pass by as we got windswept along in the windowless bus, bumping and bouncing all over the place (who said the roads were better maintained in Kerala?). Add to that the highlight of any journey on any Indian bus (or Indian vehicle for that matter) - the need for the driver to beep his horn AT LEAST once every five seconds....."Just in case you had forgotten, I'M HERE! WAHEY, LOOK AT ME! Toot toot, honk honk, let's have a party (even at 3am!)". In a rickshaw, it's tolerable and even amusing, as they tend to have two different horns with distinct tones - one more conventional car horn and the other a properly old-fashioned squeezy rubber ball honk-honk affair. The interplay between the two horns - and the sense of pride and identity that they evidently create in the rickshaw driver, for whom they are an eternal source of inspiration and entertainment - are priceless. However, bus horns are EXTREMELY LOUD and the drivers have a tendency to LEAN ON THEM SLIGHTLY LONGER THAN ONE WOULD LIKE, even on long, nightime bus journeys...and after several hours one does find one's eardrums starting to throb and retract even further into ones head. On the upside, very good for developing patience and tolerance (as is having various elbows, arses, and feet bisecting you from all angles).....

Kanyakumari is the Southernmost tip of India where the Arabian Sea, The Indian Ocean and The Bay of Bengal meet, and it is actually over the border from Kerala in Tamil Nadu. Apart from being a major pilgramage centre, it's famous for it's spectacular sunsets and sunrises, so I had quite high hopes. There's no question tha it is a place of great natural beauty, but I did find it somewhat marred by the inordinate amount of rubbish everywhere. I am getting used to this in India, but nonetheless many of the major sights/places I have since visited are fairly well maintained. I found it quite lamentable that this beautiful coastline, especially one that is apparently so highly revered, is literally strewn with rubbish of all kinds. Nonetheless, I made my way through the seemingly endless stalls of Indian tourist tat down to the water's edge where the men were enjoying a bath and the women enjoying dipping their toes in, fully clothed in their saris. I wandered up the coast for some peace and quiet and a chance to contemplate this place away from the hubbub, and I sat down on top of a wall built around a small sheltered cove, dangling my legs over the side. I heard a scuttle and looked down to see a man who I had unwittingly interrupted on the beach beneath me quickly stand up, pull his trousers up and scamper off, pretending he hadn't been using this holy beach as a toilet. That somehow broke the magic and I made my way back to the crowds to enjoy some hassle and banter. Something I find particularly baffling is the Indian obsesson (particularly male) with wanting to have photos taken with me, a perfect stranger. In my naivety, the first time someone walked up to me and said "Photo please" I thought they were asking me to take a photo of them with their mates. My gesture to take the camera was met with some amusement and before I knew it I was standing there saying "Cheese" feeling like a circus freak. Not particularly my idea of fun but I'm trying to be gracious (on good days).

I had a look around the Ghandi Mandapan, a peaceful memorial building built on the spot where his ashes were kept before they were immersed in the sea. It's constructed so that every year on his birthday the sun's rays fall on the place where his ashes were kept. Then I settled down to watch the famous sunset with the many other Indian tourists and pilgrims, enjoying having the time to contemplate the history of this place. Particularly significant for me was the fact that Kanyakumari - like much of the Tamil Nadu coastline - was badly hit during the 2004 tsunami. Being previously a stranger to these parts of the globe, I appreciated this chance to sit, contemplate and try to get my head around the reality of what happened here, especially with the anniversary looming, and to think about old, lost friends. I don't think I will ever be able to get my head around it, unless maybe I have the misfortune of experiencing something similar first hand. Nonetheless it feels more real now, and I am left in renewed awe at the fundamental, raw power of nature and the elements.

After some restorative sleep and yoga in my decidedly unfriendly hotel (with some quite friendly creatures in my very questionable bathroom) - never mind, it was very cheap :) - I got myself up and out and onto the boat over to the Swami Vivekanada Rock Memorial. Apparently on Christmas Day 1882 the famous yogi came and sat on this rock in deep meditation, following which he decided to dedicate himself to the motherland and spread the message of Vedanta. So this wonderful memorial was built to commemorate the occasion, and it really is quite a haven of peace, space and CLEANLINESS (.....mmmmmmm!) - thankfully worth the long wait in the very very long queues for the boat! So the story goes, at the time of the tsunami, whilst those on the mainland were badly hit, anyone who was on this rock was apparently saved..... I enjoyed visiting the two madapams, but the highlight of the trip was the meditation room, a really peaceful, dedicated space. I wish I had been allowed longer in there, but we were ushered through after about 5 minutes to make room for the constant stream of incoming people. So after replacing my shoes I joined the mile-long queue for the boat back to the mainland and got to witness more Indian (dis)organisation as the queue manager demonstrated the antithesis of diplomacy in his queue managing skills, for some reason favouring the packs of pushy young Indian men (not one of my favourite aspects of Indian society) over the calmer, more patient and restrained average visitor. Ommmm.

Back on the mainland, my bad timing meant I didn't make it into the temple that morning, and after a quick feed decided to make my way back up North again, this time destination Varkala, a mellow beach haven a bit further north of Trivandrum, back in Kerala. So I got myself back on the bus and retraced my steps back to the joy that is Trivandrum bus station. Having been unable to find anything resembling an information desk or ticket counter, in order to find the 'correct' bus I continued following the example of one of the few other western tourists I had so far encountered - a young Australian woman confidently yelling up to the bus drivers of all the departing buses, shouting the name of her destination and hoping to get some kind of intelligible response. Thus far the method had also proved successful for me, but at Trivandrum station at 6pm on a friday I didn't have the same luck. Evidently none of the conductors or drivers felt any desire to understand me, let alone help me, and after countless attempts, and with my backpack feeling increasingly unbearable, I found myself propped up on a pillar gazing into space, contemplating again how to go about taking the easy (taxi) route out - tut tut tut! That's when my guardian angel appeared. I must really have looked quite a sorry lost soul, as this angel of a young man, with almost Egyptian eyes so big and deep they seemed to go on for eternity, came up to me and in his best English accent asked me where I was going and promptly put me and my bag on the correct bus, told me where I needed to change, and helped me communicate with the conductor. Sometimes blessings do come when you really need them.

It was a long, windy, bumpy and very very tiring journey - else it certainly seemed that way, because although I didn't realise it I was coming down sick sick sick. Anyhow somehow I managed to get to Varkala beach and with the help of a lovely Scottish hippie found my cheap and extremely cheerful hotel, where I couldn't have been made to feel more welcome. At 11pm I was given a full tour of my quarters, including detailed introductions into the challenging technology of the light switches, mosquito nets, plumbing and windows (!!!!!). The plan was only to stay a day or two, just long enough to chill a bit on the beach and make a few travel plans, but I ended up staying for 5 days, thanks to the onset of a yummy and very full-on cold. Thank the Lord for good hosts and coconut water!