Approaching India
Approaching India I was of mixed feelings. I have had several friends and acquaintances who have traveled to India in the past and the reviews were mixed. Some people thought it was wonderful, they had a great time and would go again, while others thought India was a total pit, the worst place they had ever been in their lives and you couldn’t pay them to go again. Travel in India is not portrayed in a positive light by many in the United States, including by the United States Department of State, so I wasn’t entirely sure I even wanted to go ashore. In the end, we did and it was all good, no problems were encountered. Our experience doesn’t mean that everything you might read or hear is wrong, it just means that it didn’t apply to our limited experience, implying to me at least that the only way to know what you will think about visiting most anywhere is to go and find out for yourself, barring actual warzones of course! That said, I will point out right now that while in India I never saw a beggar, I never felt that my personal safety was threatened in any way, and I was consistently treated with courtesy, respect, and kindness. I wish I could say the same about my last visit to New York City, or elsewhere in the United States. I also found it telling that during a dinner, a fellow passenger reported being pick-pocketed…in Venice, in Italy, in the European Union, NOT in the developing world. Not that it couldn’t happen in India, but the fact remains, it didn’t. Just something to consider.
Goa
Our first port in India was in the state of Goa, an area of India long controlled by the Portuguese, who first arrived in the 16th century (the 1500s) and remained in control until 1961 when India annexed the area. Goa is comparatively rich by Indian standards, having a per capita income over double that of India as a whole and it is consistently ranked as one of the best places in India to live based on infrastructure and other factors. So, all in all, not a bad place to start.
We hired a delightful young man to drive us about Goa, Raj. Clearly, he worked for someone else who controlled or owned a fleet of mini-vans but Raj was our personal point of interaction throughout the day and he certainly did his best to make certain that all four of us were happy and comfortable, and that we were able to see and find whatever it is we wanted to. I won’t say that Goa doesn’t have a trash disposal problem but I’ve seen this in other countries too, in which people seem to decide that some random area would make a good dump site and then everyone contributes to it. And yes, traffic was relatively chaotic with the lines painted on the road, where they existed at all, seemingly functioning more for decoration than any other discernible purpose, but again, we’ve encountered this elsewhere too.
Goa is without question tropical, hot, and humid, so be prepared to sweat it out from the moment you leave anywhere air conditioned, but that also means that the area is green and lush which can be a joy itself.
We drove into the center of the historical district to the UNESCO-registered Bom Jesus Basilica along with the churches and convents of Old Goa. The Basilica holds the mortal remains of St. Francis Xavier, regarded by many Catholics as the patron saint of Goa, although the patron of the Archdiocese of Goa is actually Saint Joseph Vaz. Tim enjoyed this particularly because he attended a high school operated by the Xavierian brotherhood in Louisville, Kentucky, St. Xavier High School, and he got a kick out of the school’s patron saint existing as a mummy in India. This, clearly, wasn’t something much discussed in high school days.
We also visited a spice plantation, another hold-over from the Portuguese, and of course, a prime reason for their interest in India in the first place. Spices that today we can purchase in the local grocery store, even though they are often comparatively expensive, are no longer worth their weight in gold, or more, as they once were. We saw growing allspice, white and black pepper (same plant), nutmeg and mace (also same plant), cardamom, vanilla bean, turmeric, and betel nut, along with a few I am probably not remembering. I didn’t realize that cardamom, black and green, but especially green, is the second most expensive spice in the world, second only to saffron. I don’t particularly enjoy cardamom pods when I bite into them in Indian dishes, but I do approve of them in Scandinavian baking! I didn’t realize they were so expensive and we have a bag full in the pantry. We were treated to a demonstration of the traditional means of harvesting betel nut, which involves a very sure footed small man shimmying up the tree and swinging between trees, which I found to be incredibly uncomfortable to watch due to it feeling exploitative, but it was a part of the process of the tour and I didn’t figure I was going to change India by being a typical Westerner and trying to espouse our greater values and virtues. The tour also featured a buffet meal and samples of the local liqueur made from cashew nuts, another locally grown crop. The liqueur burned like liquid fire and suffice it to say that I didn’t choose to buy any. I thought my Mom would vomit due to drinking it and my Dad had the good sense to not try it at all.
I asked Raj to take me somewhere to purchase postcards and he diligently parked the car and walked me into a branch of the Indian Post Office. The English language was not always Raj’s strongest suit but his English was much better than my skills in any of the many Indian languages. The Post Office staff explained to him, I should guess, what I was most likely looking for and he eventually located a small stall filled with much junk, some of which appeared to be, perhaps, school supplies. After discussion with the vendor, he dug out, and I do mean that he dug it out from under piles of other stuff, some picture postcards of Goa. Apparently Raj was embarrassed that he had misunderstood me because he bought the cards for me and wouldn’t take any money from me for them. I felt badly that he felt badly and I certainly didn’t mean for him to have to buy the cards for me, but I was still appreciative that he did so. If any of you reading this have a Goa postcard, this is how it came into being.
On the return to the ship, we had a moment of confusion with the security staff, members of the Indian Armed Forces, because Tim and I confused our photocopied front pages of our passports; Tim gave me his and he had mine. Apparently not only do others think we look alike, but even we ourselves sometimes get confused about whose photo is whose!
Mangalore
Our next port was in the city of Mangalore. We rode the shuttle into the center of town, which was busy and chaotic as expected, but even more so because the day we arrived was a major festival day in honor of an Hindu deity although I can’t say which one. In some respects it doesn’t matter because at heart Hinduism is a monotheistic religion masquerading as a polytheistic one because while there are many different Gods and Goddesses, they are all ultimately just manifestations of the One, the Brahman. And yes, this is a very simplified conception of a complex religion with many variations, but it remains true nonetheless. Festivals in India require a great profusion of marigold blossoms, which could be readily found for sale alongside every road in great piles or strung on strings as well.
I discovered, quite by accident, a bookstore on the second floor of a shopping center, inconveniently across the street from where we were dropped off. But, we survived the crossing and this proved to be a relative gold mine! There were all kinds of interesting things to shop for, especially in the Gift Section. The beauty of this store was that it was intended for locals, certainly not for tourists, so everything was priced in a way that reflected local realities not the grossly inflated and optimistic prices of the tourist stores. And, they had lots and lots of postcards as well!
Cochin
Our last stop in India was in Cochin, or Kochi as the more updated Indian spelling would have it. Kochi was once, back in the 16th century, the seat of the Portuguese in India, but they later moved to Goa, where they stayed. Kochi was for many years the major spice producing and exporting location in India although in recent years this has changed and shifted with more of an emphasis, as in much of India, on the service sector, especially the provision of information technology services.
As I noted before, multiple port days in a row would prove difficult for me and this was no exception. Tim and I laid low in the morning, venturing out later, in fact after my parents had already returned. We made a very purposeful run in to the local cathedral because Mom had asked me to go there to buy a wooden puzzle box that she wanted but then didn’t buy when she was there. I picked that up for her, along with a puzzle box for a friend in California (hi Clarice!), and one for myself along with a few other items to dump most of my remaining rupees. And while I am somewhat ashamed to say it, that was the extent of my visit to Kochi; I was simply too exhausted from the previous two days efforts of sight-seeing to be able to give much more to this location which I am sure has many delights of its own.
As we left India for good I was reflective of the experience. India certainly wasn’t what I expected based on some very negative reports and it also didn’t match what I have seen portrayed of it on television shows either. Of course, life so rarely resembles television and the people whom I knew who had visited India, both for good and for bad, did so many years ago. India didn’t surprise me, yes, we did see the occasional cow in the road which everyone drives around and the cow remains completely unconcerned. I didn’t hate it, but I don’t think I loved it either. I expected worse so in that sense I was pleased that it wasn’t as filthy, dirty, or smelly as I had been led to expect. Sure, it could be cleaner, it isn’t Switzerland, but I’ve seen and smelled a lot worse in Mexico, or even in the United States for that matter. I think the reality is that India is a huge country with thousands of different cultures all mixed together and it would take a lifetime to really get any sense of the “pulse” of the nation, if you ever could without massive language ability and cultural awareness.
For the visit that I had it was fine but at the same time it didn’t cause me to want to return either. Part of that feeling is without doubt the petty policies of the Indian bureaucracy, which consumed more time, effort, and energy than it should, in part I have been told, for the express purpose of providing employment to large numbers of citizens. The existence of these bureaucratic rules, procedures, and hindrances has often been given as a reason for the slow development of India as a nation, and while I am not an expert enough about the country to know, I do suspect that a country in which each individual state operates its own version of immigration control for foreign visitors (as if you had to go through Immigration between say, Georgia and Alabama, if you were from outside the US), in addition to the national government controls which mandate one of dozens of different types of visa acquisition in advance, with the process differing between consulates, I can easily see how it would be daunting for foreign investors as well. There are so many interesting and intriguing places that I haven’t seen yet that I fear India won’t be on my repeat list. Perhaps I am making a mistake but it remains my mistake, if it is one, to make.
At this point in the cruise, it is safe to say that I was exhausted and wanted to be home again more than I wanted to continue traveling. This awareness is a key reason why we have decided to not go on such long voyages in the future. And, we are working towards a brand-new, built from the literal ground up custom home, so resources have to shift toward that goal. However, while finance is of course relevant and important, so was the sheer level of exhaustion and homesickness that was setting in by this point.
Sri Lanka
After leaving India we headed slightly south toward Sri Lanka, the tear-drop shaped island dangling off the end of India. Sri Lanka, formerly known under the British as Ceylon, is famous for tea and increasingly for amazing beach vacations. It is also unfortunately infamous for a recently ended bloody civil war, with the division along strictly ethnic lines. Mom will go most any distance to see an exotic animal, especially if there is a chance she might be able to hold, or depending on the size of the creature, ride it. So, she and Dad headed off to an elephant orphanage, but I was dissuaded by a three to four hour, each way, bus ride, so Tim and I opted to stay local.
Sir Lanka is much more of a Buddhist society than anything else, which greatly separates it from India, which is ironic when you consider that the Buddha was, after all, an Indian prince. As we moved away from the port area into town, although much was closed because it was the weekend, we saw many lovely Buddhist temples and altars. The Sri Lankan versions may not compare to the Thai ones, but then, what does, but they were still lovely in their own right. Our goal was the Sri Lankan version of a department store, Odel. Odel was small, sure, but despite that, it really could have been Kohls, or another medium-end shopping location in the United States. They had clothes, both casual and more formal professional attire; they had toys, housewares, jewelry, even some Mont Blanc pens on display. Most importantly for me, they had a crafts section and it was here that I was able to find, at affordable prices, seven identical elephants for the kids in Kentucky, despite Tim’s usual protests over this purchase, along with a local mask that now hangs in the kitchen along with similar items from around the world. And, it was here that I discovered that Lego has come out with buildable Star Wars characters, of which I have now have all but Clone Commander Cody and he arrives on Saturday via FedEx Home. So, I learned something to my advantage in Sri Lanka after all.
The story continues in the next installment, which starts here –