Day 32 - Thursday - Kodaikanal to Kochi

I awake from a dream by the sound of the phone ringing. Anyone that knows when Sam is woken and he's tired, initially he can be a bit cranky. Additionally I had some stomach cramps. The guy that I had hired to fix the camera ran to tell me that it was fixed. It had taken more work so it was going to cost me 2400rps. I refused to pay anymore than we had agreed. He said he be able to do a good discount. I just ignored him and told him I'd collect the camera later. I went back to sleep until 10.30pm. My stomach felt a little bit more dodgy when I got up. 10 minutes later I got out of the toilet and took two Immodium and some Diarlyte. A bit of the Delhi belly by the looks of it. Ian was feeling a lot worse. We needed to move to move of the cottage although we were willing to stay in the other guest house another night if needed. Ian was happy to come down off the mountain and get somewhere a bit warmer. We let Ian rest and myself and Peter cleaned up the cottage and got all the bags packed. We left our luggage in the main house and paid Saboo the remainder of the money we owed him.

We walked down towards the town. Peter stopped in with the boys and Ian and I went to the internet, picked up the camera and got a taxi. We collected the bags and went to the bus stand to wait for our bus. The boys came along 20 mins later. I felt for Ian. He was not feeling in good shape at all. I can imagine the thought of the journey ahead was the last thing he was looking forward. He lay on a rock on the ground with his head in his arms. The government bus to Palini was due to leave at 1.40. Crowds of people stood and sat around waiting just like us. When I realised which was our bus I signalled to Aidan to get seats. By the time we got to the bus with our bags the bus was jammed. Aidan was doing his best, unsuccesfully, to fend off the locals from taking the seats he had kept. We ended getting three seats. Enough for the bags, Ian and Aidan. Myself and Peter were delighted to stand/sit in the doorway coming down off the mountain. Eoghan sat on the ground behind us. After the first five stops the bus was packed and there was barely enough room to breath. I was standing in the aisle and my stomach was feeling not the best. Ian was catching some Zzzzz and Aidan was smiling away reading his book. There seems to be no limit to the number they allow on Indian buses. If you can fit one more in, then the bus isn't full.

The bus journey although at times a little uncomfortable was beyond spectacular. The three hour mountain road showed some of the most amazing scenes I have ever seen in my life. Breath taking, serene and peaceful. The green hilly scenery changed constantly as we swung around each corner. Sometimes a waterfall being revealed, other times a colourful school or church sticking on some out crop of land. India never fails to surprise me with its existence upon the most barren and difficult terrain. In some way it reminds me of the old Ireland. Can't quite put my finger on it, although I feel at home a lot of the time as I make my way through this different world. Palini was only a half an hour journey after we got to ground level. The dusty city was another schizophrenic change from Kodai. The bus stand we pulled into was the usual manic frenzy of beeping horns, swirling dirt, irritating flies and unpleasant aroma of untreated raw sewage. I headed to the Information Desk. Every bus stand we have being to so far has had some form of Info Desk. The Indian gentleman as always was very helpful and told me the next bus we needed to get was to Polkar in Kerala and from there to Cochin. I returned and told the lads. Eoghan and I went off, hoping we might find a private bus to Kochi. The streets were a collection of rundown looking shops, cooked food and fruit stalls. Young people heading home from school, stood staring at the two tall white long haired dudes, out of place in their down. It wasn't long before we realised there was no travel agent anywhere near the bus stand. A lot of Indian towns will have private tour operators that offer direct buses to and from the major towns. This was not one of them. By the time we got back to the others Ian was looking and feeling pretty bad. We boarded the next bus, got some seats and got ready for the next three hours of the journey.

40rps a head was the fare each. For some bizarre reason I felt we were being done over as usual with the tourist tax. I ended up arguing with the suspicious conductor and I even went to the effort of asking a police man on board, how much the fare was. He agreed it was 40rps. At one point the majority of the bus turned around to question at why I was calling out so loudly. After grudgingly paying the 200rps, the bus conductor sat down beside the police man and they started chatting and laughing together. As for whether the fare was correct or not there were two things that this is symbolic of. India can really get to you because so much of the time you feel and you are getting screwed over. The other is not to worry. I was probably arguing over the difference of 15 cent per person. The bus flew along a scenic route with a large mountain range off in the distance to our left. We entered one of the largest wind farms I have ever seen. It went on for a distance of around 20 miles with wind turbines going as far as the eye could see on the left and right of the road we travelled along. There is something rather beautiful and hypnotic about the sight of these wind farms. They have an elegance and stature that is hard toi explain unless you see them. I have witnessed them in Ireland and felt the same thing. Seeing them in this quantity, melodically spinning in their randomised unity is quite stilling.

Kerala appeared to be quite a different state, as we had being told by many other travellers. Even in the darkened evening you could see the modern, large residential premises on the outskirts of Polakar. Billboards and modern supermarkets. Can Communism be working successfully in one part of the world? India for that matter! The first people elected communist government. The look of the area continued to improve as we drove through the town. We checked the time of our connecting bus when we disembarked and headed for some food in a local restaurant. We might as well have walked into Supermacs on O'Connell's Street. We ordered a collection of westernised food of omelet, sandwiches and soup. Eoghan was feeling a little worse for wear. The last bumpy journey had started making him feel nauseous. Additionally Peter was beginning to feel a tooth ache from a wisdom tooth, activated by another bumpy bus journey. As we sat there, looking rather sorry for ourselves three Indians stood up to leave and introduced themselves. The oh so familiar local greeting of “Where are you from?” and “What is your name?” was this time followed by an offer of assistance of any sort. Perhaps it was how we looked. Nevertheless, this group of young men sincerely meant what they said. If there was anything that they could help us with they were there for us. They gave us their number, wished us well and gave us the warmest welcome to the state of Kerala.

Our last bus journey that night was probably the worst. It ended up being four hours in the dark and the pissing rain. The bus was rammed and after travelling for the last 7 or 8 hours no one is in the mood for it. Accept Aidan and Peter, who had felt the whole thing had being easy compared to some of the journeys. Peter due to the fact he had slept for 40% of all the bus rides. The trick was not to try and sleep, unless you were Peter. It only resulted in your head bopping away and jolting awake a moment after closing your eyes by some enormous pot hole. Indian fall asleep with ease on any journey. I presume similar to how I used to on the 45 bus in to school in the morning, back in Dubin, when I was younger. I had a small skinny Indian man, fortunately, falling on me as we raced along. I was delighted when the bus finally pulled in to Cochin (Kochi). Cats and dogs is a good description for the rain. We trundled under the nearest overhang in the bus shelter. Ian was feeling really bad and needed somewhere to lie down. Aidan had done his usual homework before arriving in a new location and knew of two hotels within minutes of where we were. He ran out into the pelting downfall, armed with his mack, and hailed two rickshaws to where we stood. A lot of government transport stands will not allow taxis enter the premises. The first group of bundled in and headed in the direction of the Metropolitan. A business hotel within 5 minutes of the Central Cochin Bus Stand.

The hotel reception was in near darkness when we arrived. One man stood behind the desk and another bolted awake from a nearby couch. We spent 10 minutes agreeing the price and went to our rooms. Very mediocre for the price. Myself and Ian's room smelt strongly of dampness. A smell I was well used to, growing up in a house with a flat roof in Ireland. The rooms were small and did what they said on the tin. Designed for your typical businessman, that only needed somewhere to rest his head, it lacked character and was functional. We order food, as even though Ian felt bad, was starving after not eating for the past two days. The toasted cheese sambos and coffee where like the room. Functional.