Monday, November 27, 2006

Ani Lo Medaberet Ivrit - Maspik!

Achoti! Achoti!

Apparently I look like an Israeli.

Mah Nishma! Achoti! Sababa! Ma Inyanim!

That doesn't bother me so much.

Maybe because Both Nechama and I have crazy curly hair. Or that perhaps we look like dirty cheap Israelis with our flashy blue and pink shitcatchers (or aladdin pants, for the shopkeepers), our chirping anklets with bells on them, and we want things for cheap. Hum.

I have been eating Hummus every day though. For breakfast. Shame there's no herring and smoked salmon in India. Then I'll really feel overdone.

We're in a gorgeous village named Hampi, a town strewn amongst Hindi ruins that are over 500 years old. The first two days we spent on the Hampi Bazaar side of the river, in a crumbling guesthouse surrounded by Kashmiri shops selling the same wares. We were too exhausted from our travelling, so we've decided to get some rest before exploring the temples of Hampi by bicycle. Yes, that's right kids. Sarah is going to ride a bike again. What, first time in four years? Uh oh. I thought I had to leave my fitness behind when I finished trekking in the Himalayas. Now what's this about bike riding?!

This morning we moved over to the other side of the river to a more relaxed and friendlier cluster of guesthouses and restaurants showing nightly movies. Oh, and 85% Israeli. Hence the Achoti! Achoti!

I could get used to it.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

On the way to Hampi

We made it! We have finally left the building! I am writing to you from Hampi, Karnataka (a state away from Kerala, for all youse following my travels carefully along the map) but boy, did it take forever to get here. As depicted in my previous post, we had trouble leaving Varkala. We just didn't. Spending $1.50 per night on lovely accomodation, we had some interesting encounters during our stay. The first, as also described in Nechama's blog (www.porgylovestruck.blogspot.com) was the Kerala Coffee House Boys. These suave but cute Keralan boys lived the life - working short hours waiting tables at the hangout 'Kerala Coffee House', drinking themselves silly in the late hours of the night, performing as the Cheeky Monkeys (acoustic versions of Hindi and old classic Rock songs), and, of course, gorging on innocent Western women during their spare time. And oh, the drama! Since we had been in Varkala for quite some time, we learnt the leanings of such boys, and warned a woman that lived in our guesthouse to be wary. That's all. What a ruckus did that cause! Nechama had both the drummer of the Cheeky Monkeys and the 'girlfriend' confront her about this alleged warning, and we recieved some dirty sneers from a group of French women, all who were involved with these womanisers. Not that we have a problem with the womanising - we just wanted to inform these ladies that they weren't the first (as the boys always promise) and nor will they be the last.

But let's just say that when we left Varkala, we left some unexpected broken hearts. Whether it was a Kashmiri salesman who simply sold Nechama a bracelet, or a Nepalese waiter in my favourite restaurant (this was all unknown to us until our final day - where secrets always unravel in despair)... And it was time to leave.

So we left! The breezy train ride from Varkala to the traffic hub of Cochin was an easy task, we were just warming up to a long and gruelling journey ahead.
a fifteen hour journey. on a bus. a local bus. crammed with sweaty, spitting Indian men. and we, two lovely white women travellers. fun. did i say, fifteen hours?

An overnight journey is always difficult. But this one I believe was one of the most challenging journeys I've ever experienced. Sitting on a hard bench, being squashed by the conducter as he collects the new passengers' fares, attempting any sleep, constantly stepped over by other passengers (usually Indian men wearing local garb, which is a towel wrapped around their legs... I'm sure very fashionable, but I didn't want to have a bar of it as they hopped over my legs), behind us was a man resembling Elephant Man, making putrid noises with his mouth which sounded awfully similar to vomiting, however there was no residue (only dry retching -we're in the clear!)... and all of this happened in the first hour! I don't have to elaborate on the next fourteen...

We arrived into Banglore (the capital of Karnataka) dishevelled and absolutely exhausted. I was miserable, overtired, and all I could think of was the first place to get a bed. Once we finally negotiated a reasonable price for half a day's rent, I went STRAIGHT to sleep. One thing everyone should know (if not, learn quickly) : nothing, NOTHING gets in the way of Sarah and a good sleep. Otherwise she turns into Fruma Sarah from Fiddler on the Roof, howling and screeching :D a role I know well.

That evening Nechama and I decided to go all out and splurge at a swank Chinese restaurant - entree, main and even dessert (yes! toffee apples reminiscent of Silky Apple days!) - at a round cost $12 (and yes, the service was wonderful). We were warming ourselves to another overnight journey, but this time it was in luxury - a 'deluxe' bus to Hampi.
*Deluxe - upholstered seats that push back to a semi'lying position. True style. I was in heaven.

So yes, now I am Hampi - another Holy city of India, not necessarily searching for any spirituality, just here to have a look around and have a good time. Coz that's what it's all about.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Totally addicted to... Varkala

I did promise pictures - but alas, not today.

Every day Nechama and I tell eachother we're leaving Varkala the following morning. It's time to go. Really, we should move on. We were supposed to leave this paradise on Sunday, onwards to Periyar (a wildlife sanctuary and surrounding tea/spice plantations) but our itinerary keeps changing with the weather. What keeps us here at Varkala? The weather has been pretty awful - heavy rains and grey clouds and milky seas and some more rain. The beach isn't as calm or as inviting as Goa - the waves crash above our heads and after five minutes I'm ready to get out and sunbake (in the few minutes of sun we have). The current is very strong and I feel that I have just completed a work out each time I attempt to swim. The shops that line the promenade (if you can call it that - perhaps a boardwalk made of rock that hugs the cliff face) are filled with the same junk as every other one we pass over. Colourful bags, sequined shoes, bedspreads, pashminas, trinkets galore - same stuff, different store. So why the hell are we here? Still? After more than a week?

It’s the people, man. And, as they say, it’s the people that make the place.

When we arrived to Varkala, the village on the cliff was quite empty. We recognized some of the regulars, some people I remembered from Cochin… We enjoyed the sunshine – although during the hottest times of the day, I would bury myself in the shady cool of internet cafes and cafes, striking up conversations with the random Indians that worked there. But now, after a week and a half, we seem like old timers, waving to shopkeepers and waiters and other tourists. Regulars. Ha.

Each night we agonise over what we feel like eating for dinner - Thai? Italian? Keralan? One night we opted for a cooking class in the Kerelan style of Thali - and ate our products for dinner! Curried vegetables, Tuna Moli (a sweet vegetable gravy with fresh tuna), Coconut Cabbage and a fried vegetable which is only known as Lady/Witch Fingers? A little like zucchini. Mmmm. Man, that's all I ever do is write about the food. One restaurant makes incredible Thai food and Nechama and I keep going back for more - last night we were so ravenous at 9 30pm we raced to the cafe, didn't even bother sitting down or looking at the menu and ordered ourselves a great dinner. We've become a little too 'regular' in this place as well, making friends with the Nepalese Hebrew-speaking waiters - it's hard not to, since the village is so small.

Talk about routine. After dinner we meet up for drinks with a gorgeous British couple, an Assyrian Swede, an Irish couple, and a Kerelan journalist who now works in Dubai. It varies from night to night, but each day we keep telling each other that yes, tomorrow we'll leave, tonight's our last night - but we end up staying, can't be bothered packing up - lethargy at large.

I think we might leave tomorrow. Or the next day. Who knows.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Lazy Days

Ok Alana and Mum, here is another post for your veiwing pleasure... But I like the comment encouragement - keep it up! Well, to be honst, i can't really write much about where I am at the moment, for that is in Verkala, still in Kerala (the state), on a beach. Amen. The guesthouses and huts and restuarants are on a rocky cliff overlooking the sea, and the beach is a couple hundred steps below (only fifty, but when you walk up it after a long day in the sun with sandy wet feet squidging in thongs, it feels like forever). Life around here consists of lazy afternoons reading Douglas Adams, and deciding where to go for dinner. Thai or Italian? Indian or Chinese? Tough choices.

So let me get back to Cochin. Far more exciting. Cochin is a city/village that one can lose oneself in. And if it hadn't been for a time limit, well... my new address could have very well been Fort Cochi, Cochin, Kerala, India... at least for another couple weeks. The pace is slow and lazy, the sunny afternoons melt into pink dusks and the fish is just so tasty! Yes, that's right, I thought I was fished out in Greece, but no, Kerala has the best fish in all of India (which should be easy, as its one of the few states on the coast of the Arabian Sea). How did I spend my time in Cochin. Well, one day I organised myself on a day trip to the infamous Backwaters of Kerala. These are tiny canals and rivers that bend between villages and lush jungle - it was so peaceful and relaxing on the houseboat that I fell asleep! Since I missed out spending overnight on a houseboat with Nechama and the Brits we met in Goa, the daytrip was my special time. Pity though, that the rest of the group was made up of couples - and I was the only single traveller! Each couple would whisper between themselves, careful not to disturb the quiet. We ate lunch of banana leaves and drank the milk from coconuts freshly cut from the palms in front of us. It was a nice relaxing day.

The next day was too hot to walk around, so Nechama and I indulged ourselves and had tea at a gorgeous teahouse named Teapot. Now, this shop was so tastefully decorated, the layout and menu so nicely designed, that we felt that we were transported back to Melbourne, or Europe, or America. It was wonderful. When Nechama asked the owner if he had spent any time outside India, he said no, that he's never left Kerala. Well. We met somebody yesterday from Fort Cochi and when enquiring about Teapot, apparently the owner had spent quite few years abroad. You never can know what people are really like around here. Or anywhere, I suppose, but I feel that I'm not as lied to in other places as I can be here in India. Not that I mind. For I'm lucky I've been long enough here to catch them out. It's the package tourists that come from Britain for a two week splurge in India and then shipped back home that really get caught out. We met some Brits that were on their way to Thailand via India - they wrote Nechama an email saying that they found Thailand to be SO MUCH CHEAPER than India... What the?? Even Vietnam is cheaper than Thailand, and India's cheaper than that!

But I'm not here to talk about money. It's all in the attitude. As I will explain to you now.

I never really finished telling you about our wonderful travelling partner throughout Rajasthan. She was a Brit who constantly compared India to England. Yes, that's right. It's impossible to compare India to ANYTHING! Especially England. Worlds apart. Perhaps the only thing in common with the two countries is cricket. But I guess thats what most Commonwealth countries share. And i think i'm beginning to like the game. (Gasp!)

So our new friend was roadtripping around Rajasthan with us- but she didn't have the right attitude. That's all it is - what makes or breaks a trip. Apparently religion and religious symbols intimidate her (then what the hell is she doing in India?!?!!?!?!?) and she doesn't like to be pressured or have people invade personal space when touting... Erm... Welcome to South East Asia, baby. To cut a long story short - we ended up in a hospital in Udaipur, babysitting this clueless toddler. After eating all the same food, sharing the same snacks, we tried to rack our brains how she got sick and we didn't. Especially this young un here with the sensitive tummy.

And you know what? It's all about the attitude.

Oh, and luck.

Udaipur was beautiful though - the palaces, the markets, the hotels in the middle of the lakes... Labelled the most romantic city in Rajasthan, I wholeheartedly agree - it was absolutely beautiful.

Next time - I promise pictures.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Coochi Coochi Cochin

Why India indeed.

I've since returned the the "Country that God Gave" (according to the many slogans wallpapered on the walls of churches and schools around here), far away from home.

Far away from the surreal surroundings of my time in Melbourne.

Our family's strong closeness defined my life. Friday night dinners will never ever be the same. But nothing will ever be the same. Not for me, not for my mother, not for my aunty, not for my cousins, not for my Zaida. He was everyone's uncle, everyone's friend. He had a special name for me - Denise (Da Niece) Kim Sarah Hannah - and the day I was born he stopped horse riding. (Aparently. Ruth told me they went riding on their honeymoon. And i danced at their wedding. Hrm.) He filled me in on the ins and outs of the Hecht family when my mother just couldn't remember. He invited me into office to share lunch when we bumped into eachother at Beth Weizmann. He was always there to help us and support everyone in the family. He was David. My Uncle David.

I also want to thank all of you who helped our family throughout this tragedy. Thank god I have never been in this situation before, and it was so incredible to see and experience the magic of our friends and community during this time. I don't think I will ever forget your support.

But now I'm back in India, in Cochin to be exact, and it still feels surreal. I know that it shouldn't and that man, I couldn't wait to return, but now that I'm back - every emotion I suppressed has found a little hole in my skin from which to pour out. Or seep. It depends on the time of day. It's also difficult to return to a place that it challenging to travel in, after becoming comfortable with the everydayness and ease of Melbourne life. In Melbourne i never have to worry about the water I use for my toothbrush, nor of squat tiolets, or bug infested beds (well, that depends on how often I clean my room!), or people that want to cheat you. Life's easy, and that's the way we like it.

But life here in Cochin in easy as well. I have now met up with Nechama and it's wonderful to be on the road again. Cochin is a city in the south of India, in a state named Kerala (famous for the Keralan backwaters - little canals through lush jungles). It is quiet, quaint, and very beautiful. The houses are painted in fabulous yellows, greens and pinks - some are over 200 yrs old, built from the portugese era. Bouganvillea billow from the high walls and the cracked paint while school kids in blue uniforms play cricket in the parade grounds outside my first hotel. Life is slow here in Cochin. I like it.

On Friday I went out and about in the area - my suave rickshaw driver Sabu took me to the laundry where men and women wash the clothes of nice hotels. Rows and rows of white linen bustled in the wind, while men slapped teeshirts on the ground to get all the dirt out. I also visited a ginger factory, where the produce is exported all over India, and even to Japan. It smelt amazing.

But my most memorable moment of Friday was Friday night - Shabbat. God had a good idea when he created Shabbat. I think it's a most perfect method to measure the weeks - and also, its a very special time for family - whether it be one's own, or the Jewish family. The reason I am in Cochin is because of its Jewish history. Once upon a time, thousands of Jews lived in this area - it's disputed whether they arrived during King Solomon's time, or after the destruction of the Second Temple, or if they are part of the ten tribes that King Nebuchadnezzer transported when carving up the kingdom after the destruction of the First Temple. Or they arrived with the merchant trading in India. One thing that we can all agree on is that there is a strong Jewish heritage in Cochin - and I am infatuated. This is what led me to the oldest synagogue in the Commonwealth - it's over 500 years old. (It sure beats Ballarat!) One must take their shoes off before entering, not beause of any holiness etc, but because the floor is made up of hundreds of Chinese porcelain painted tiles - and no two tiles are the same. The oil chandeliers are from Europe - and I was very much reminded of the shules in Tzfat, Israel.

So where shall I begin...
It was bucketing down - a very fast and fat rain, the most annoying - and my rickshaw driver dropped me at the beginning of the street that leads to the shule. After arriving absolutely soaked, I was told that there weren't enough men for a minyan. The leader of the tiny community opened the Aron Kodesh for all of us to see, and then hurried to close it. He was hungry, and there was no time to waste if there wasn't any prayers. Someone poured some wine into plastic cups, and an Israeli said Kiddush on the Bimah. The wine was awfully sweet and somewhat fizzy (?) and most people left soon after that. I was soon talking to an Israeli/Indian girl who invited me and another British couple to her and her husband's home for Shabbat dinner. Boy, what a night.

The husband was born in India, his mother is a Pardesi, a White Indian Jew (apparently there's three different types, a little like Ashkenazi and Sephardi) and he made aliyah to Israel more than twenty years ago. He returned to India seven years ago because his mother was very old and getting quite sick. His wife was born in Israel, but to Indian parents - and they both speak Hebrew, fluent English, Hindi, and some other Indian dialects that have eluded me right now. Their home is decked out in 'Jewish' attire - lots of Hamsas, prayer posters, Breslev 'Nachman' slogan stickers, pictures of Moshe and Rav Kook. He slaughters his own chickens for he doesn't trust the mashgiach of the current Shechter, he makes all his own liquers and spirits (and proceeded to make me get drunk even before we started the meal. "Here Sarah, you must have more of the Irish cream I made. I made it - everything in this house is 100% kosher, and you must drink - its Shabbat!") and he is a very devout man. It's incredible. So far removed from the POlish shetle life I am used to hearing about.

Ok, I must run. Will elaborate later. God bless. xxx

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Why India? (not a real post either)

Since returning unexpectedly back to Melbourne due to the tragic passing away of my Uncle David, not only do people keep asking me questions, but with each question I have one more for myself. The most common question that I am asked is - "Why India?" Exactly. Why do I want to leave my family again, and why would I want to a country like THAT? And that's a toughie to answer.

I was contemplating writing about this surreal week and all the challenges my family faced, but I'm not sure if that's appropriate for this site. This blog is my travel diary, and I feel that while I want to express to you readers (even though most of you are my family!) about how much I love David, and how much I miss him, as well as the pain and grief my mother, aunty, grandfather and cousins are experiencing - I don't think that is my place.

Why India?

I suppose living in the cushy comforts of Caulfield it's quite difficult to see why any normal Jewish girl should want to leave and complete her GAP year in a country that is supposedly infested with filth, diseases, poverty, unhealthy food, rabid animals, drugs, gurus, and, heaven forbid, israelis.... I understand that my reasoning for returning to this paradise won't suffice - but I this is an integral part of growing up and making decisions for oneself. Moreover, I really love that country. No, not to live Nana, don't worry, but the Indian people are enveloping, their culture seductive, and the land is a fascinating terrain to explore. I don't know when I'll return to visit again. As this week has reminded all of us - who knows what's around the corner.