Waking up (in more ways than one)

Central Bus Station, Trivan

Waking up in Trivandrum was like waking up on the first morning of camping. The unfamiliar sounds, smells and four walls confused me for a minute and I thought I was still dreaming. But NO! I am in F*CKING INDIA!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! It was like Christmas morning, only more humid and my only gift was throwing open the musty curtains of my room to an *almost* sleeping city below. It was 3:30am Trivandrum time (I had been sleeping for 12 beautiful hours) and the streets were empty save for an occasional rickshaw or lean dog prowling for a snack. I sat in bed at TeeKay Palace, watching the sun come up over a hazy city and bed-dancing to Hindi music videos coming from the Samsung flat screen across the room.

Hari, looking suave. He has a beautiful smile too ladies ;)

The day before, the hotel I had wanted was booked full so I wandered up the muddy Aristo Rd and found TeeKay. The room was ridiculously over-priced (Rs.1880 incl tax = $38CAD) but it had a comfortable bed, a/c and an attached "western-style" bathroom.

I'm glad I wandered here too because the jack-of-all-trades, Hari, showed me to my room and instantly gravitated towards the Nikon hanging from my neck. We bonded over photography, he insisting on taking pictures of us and telling me about his new Canon. Even in my sleep-deprived state, I felt a connection to his open smile and his enthusiasm for pretty much everything. He guessed my age at 17 or 18, which didn't hurt either ;)

When finally the sun had graced the city, I made my way down to the hotel restaurant which would be my home base for three days. It had wifi for studying and Facebook, delicious vegetable curries, coffee and a wait staff who became my friends and food critics over the next few days - it had everything I needed. From the windows I could see the chaos of cars, taxis, rickshaws, buses, bicycles, scooters, motorcycles, people, goats, dogs and the occasional police jeep careen through the mud with no discernible traffic pattern that I could identify.

Although I later switched to Greenland Lodging for a much more economical (Rs 380) room rate, I came back to the restaurant at TeeKay to watch Indian families supper and to interact with the staff when they felt brave. Many didn't speak to me directly. Instead, they found me on Facebook and started messaging me from the computer behind the counter. Facebook provided equal footing while also the chance for them to practice their written english skills which were already pretty amazing. Most had learned through a Singapore school, and dreamed of one day becoming a Permanent Resident in Canada (I gave them Red Seal Immigration's website!)

Chalai Bazaar

When I did venture out into the world, I practiced my street weaving skills, avoiding being flattened by buses and cars by never stopping. That is the secret to navigating India's streets during crunch time, never stop moving. Weave between people and cars, hop over puddles and slosh through them, but never stop. Men would call out to me every few seconds and I would smile, wave, say hello or just keep going, depending on my translation of their greeting. Hailing a rickshaw was the easiest and cheapest ways to see the city I found. I went to the Chalai bazaar and moved between the cramped shops selling textiles, spices, fireworks, metals, flowers and fruit.

Cutie-pie!

I hung out at the bus stand and made friends with a young girl, clearly fascinated by such a sweaty, white beast slurping back orange Fanta and taking pictures of her in all of her cuteness. I went up to the public gardens (meh) and walked around the Kanakakunnu Palace (wow), but mostly I just walked the streets and basked in my celebrity status.

Another early morning brought me to Kovalam Beach, a Rs200/14km rickshaw west. I got there around 7am and caught the morning fisherman hauling in their nets and the delicate-legged sea birds catching their breakfast on the black sand. I walked to Samudra Beach and chatted with an elder about his visions of Canada (he offered me drugs when we parted ways, what a sweetie but no thanks). Before the mostly German tourists came out, the beaches were serene and filled with cricket-playing children. I walked through Hawah Beach where young locals were playing in the waves, fully clothed and up the hill to Lighthouse Beach where I took my first plunge into the Arabian Sea. Slightly cooler than the air above it, the sea was filled with white and brown bodies by noon. A man took my hand in the water and taught me how to dive under the waves, between the floating garbage. His wife stood on the shore, taking photos and encouraging him to put his arm around my waist for a photo. I have never let anyone take so many photos of me, in a bikini no less. As I let the salt dry on my skin on the beach, endless pineapple/coconut/papaya/mango vendoresses approached me. I finally gave in when one offered me a mandarin orange. My celebrity status was taking it's toll after about a dozen posed photographs and numerous other covert ones, so I headed up to the white & red striped lighthouse for some serenity, moving through smoke clouds of burning garbage on the way.

Lighthouse Beach, Kovalam

Kovalam introduced me to the Arabian, but I wouldn't recommend it for a relaxing day at the beach. Too many vendors and photo requests! So I packed up and enjoyed a scenic rickshaw through rural Trivandrum back to Greenland Lodge. The rains came then, drenching the city and sending people running for cover. I was glad for the quick shower, salty as I was. Grabbed a dosa from Teekay and then passed out by 8:30.