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Kerala, India Part 1 – My sister Lisa joins us!

My sister Lisa finally arrived in India to join us for a travel adventure in Kerala! It almost didn’t happen. There were the usual travel hassles: finding flights, the unnecessarily complicated visa application, the length of the journey (24 hrs), vaccinations, etc, as well as the jitters that most world travel newbies feel before journeying to a country halfway around the world. (Her trips to Europe hadn’t evoked such feelings.) But after scoring a free flight as a credit card sign-up bonus and receiving encouragement from me and her world-traveling friend, Heather, Lisa conquered all obstacles and showed up smiling and radiant in Kochi with gifts and needed supplies for us.

I’d traveled backpacker-style years ago from Delhi to Udaipur to Jaipur and Mussoorie, and had faced some challenges I wasn’t sure my sister was ready for, so I thought I would ‘ease’ her into India by booking a room for us at the Kochi Marriott, a five star hotel starting at only $75 a night. Split two ways, it was cheaper than our bare bones lodging in Bolivia! (Soon enough, though, she’d be experiencing bare bones.) It turned out to be the perfect place to begin our journey. They upgraded us to a suite, and when the chef learned that Lisa was vegan, he gave her a customized tour of the vegan dishes that where part of their enormous Ramadan buffet. Chef Ganesh then whipped up extra dishes just for her and brought them to our table. We were thrilled. The other Restaurant staff, Front Desk, Concierge, and Housekeeping staff were also all infallibly helpful and friendly. #kochimarriott

The next day, we took a backwaters tours in Kochi where a gathering storm made the light and colors surreal.

There were resorts along the banks, primitive huts, and this post-apocalyptic-looking building.

We traveled overland to see the iconic Chinese fishing nets at Fort Cochin Beach, a subject we would see again and again in paintings on hotel walls. For me, they were interesting because I wanted to try my hand at photographing them, but I quickly realized that, to my gentle-hearted, vegan sister, they symbolized misery and death for millions of fish. Accordingly, my photo is nothing like the idyllic paintings in our hotel.

Whether due to pollution or to freighter traffic, no one swims at Fort Cochin, but there was an enormous crowd milling about on the beach under brooding skies.

As she is much like my sister, Elise hates seeing animals exploited. Instead of asking for a ride on this poor camel, she asked if she could pay to feed it, but the owner had no food so she just petted it instead. 

The next day, we set out for Alleppey to do a houseboat tour, but when we arrived, we learned the workers were on strike, so we decided to continue on to Kovalam, the southernmost point on our itinerary. Our driver was more than happy to oblige. Along the way we happened upon a Krishna-Radha festival, where the town was ablaze in all manner of lights. Lisa described it as “1,000 Christmases”. The brash, blinking lights in the shape of various deities were over the top.

But I simply loved the long strands of colored lights hanging from trees in quiet corners which made me think about the magic of childhood. French-Romanian playwright Eugene Ionesco’s quote seemed apt: Childhood is the world of miracle and wonder; as if creation rose, bathed in the light, out of the darkness, utterly new and fresh and astonishing. The end of childhood is when things cease to astonish us. I also thought of John Singer Sargent’s painting Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose in which two little girls light Chinese lanterns in a lush garden at twilight – one of the loveliest representations of the magic of childhood I’ve ever encountered, and I recalled my own wonderment as a kid catching fireflies on balmy evenings in our yard full of fragrant lilacs. I decided that I would find a way to surprise Elise by recreating these lights at an upcoming summer evening party for her.

When we finally reached Kovalam late in the evening, we checked into The Leela, a grand, airy hotel set on a cliff overlooking the beach. There was a poolside terrace restaurant, giant vats of rose petals floating in water, and slate walkways with rock pools in open-air hallways. It was a relief to have arrived at such a place after the 220 km drive, during which our driver overtook hundreds of vehicles (speed up, slow down, speed up, slow down ad nauseam). In the case of one particular truck, however, which reeked of some ungodly rot, we were grateful for his ability to speed past other vehicles.

At check-in, we were given shell necklaces and coconuts to drink, and then we headed out to explore the beach.

Given the incomparable service at the Kochi Marriott, when we sat down for dinner, we felt a wee bit neglected by the wait staff, but Chef Gurudeep more than made up for it the next morning when he gave us a marvelous tour of the many dishes in their breakfast buffet. We had various curries and masala dosas – thin crepes stuffed with potato and chutney, and discovered Kumbil Appams, steamed jackfruit rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves. Unlike the boxed cereals, donuts, and other junkfood you get for breakfast in the US, this was real food and deeply satisfying.

After some yoga on our balcony, we hit the pool, where Elise did cannonballs and then pulled me around on a float (so relaxing), and then we hit the beach. Unfortunately, there were red flags along the shore warning of strong riptides, so we didn’t risk going into the water. There was a lively local scene further down the beach where everyone seemed to be smiling or laughing.

Although The Leela was lovely, it had some quirks such as the heavy, antique-y, wooden bath doors that didn’t close right and a damp smell in our room which did not justify the price, so we decided to move to a guest house recommended by Lonely Planet that offered Ayurvedic treatments.

Our transportation there was comical. The resort golf cart brought us to the edge of the property, and then the three of us piled into one tiny rickshaw with our 4 big bags. We had to get in and out a few times to make everything fit. The taxi drivers watching us looked incredulous and offered to take us instead. I told them it wasn’t a matter of price, it was that we wanted the experience of riding in a rickshaw. It turned out to be fun! and the price was an astonishing 29 cents for .7 km.

After The Leela, our new accommodations seemed dingy, although they had just been scrubbed clean. Instead of a proper shower cabin, there was a faucet on the bathroom wall and a big blue bucket with a dipper to pour water over oneself. Splash too much and you get the entire floor wet and the toilet, too. At the start of our travels when I was unsure how long our funds would last, I’d opted for many such rooms and I think I’d finally had enough. Lisa, though, was surprisingly positive about the room. She told me that she had stayed in very basic rooms when she did her Master Yoga Teacher training at the Kripalu in Western Mass. I shouldn’t have complained…it was soon going to get much worse, lol.

But first, we got to experience an Ayurvedic massage from this wonderful lady with kind eyes. When I learned that she had traveled an hour and half from her village to provide us with treatments, I gave her a big tip and my shell necklace from The Leela as well as some red beads from Fiji which matched her sari perfectly.

In the evening, we set out to find a vegetarian restaurant, but Lisa got nervous as it grew dark so we popped into a German-owned restaurant on the main drag and ordered take out. We had tea while we waited, and Elise showed her Aunty her drawings. It was beautiful seeing their interaction – Lisa was so patient and positive, and Elise reveled in all the attention.

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Snorkeling with sharks in Fiji!

Fiji had been on my bucket list for as long as I could remember, and, thanks to a university course I’m taking in travel journalism, I had become interested in writing an article about island-hopping in the South Pacific, and so I had even more reason to visit. I’d assumed, though, that it would be difficult to get there and that the flights would be cost-prohibitive. But then I discovered some great deals on direct flights from Singapore, and joyously booked our tickets to Nadi and then a ferry to the tiny Yasawa Islands, which curl like a cat’s tail off of the west coast of Viti Levu.

Our first stop was Nacula Island in the north of Yasawas. We met a great group of people and the lodge was delightful. The cabins had vaulted ceilings decorated with an island motif and long curtains that billowed in the ocean breezes.

Our beach was pleasant, but it had low, flat rocks which made it less than ideal for swimming. Fortunately, it was a short boat ride to nearby Nabula Island – my vision of tropical paradise – where we went snorkeling.

There was, however, an unpleasant surprise lurking just below the surface of those perfect turquoise waters: sea “lice”. They sting but leave no mark. One sting is a nuisance, but a dozen stings all at once is enough to drive one away shouting obscenities from the infected area. Not what I expected. They seemed to be more prevalent around schools of fish, so we learned to stay clear.

Back on Nacula, a staff from the lodge brought us to a nearby village to meet the chief of the island, who was descended from a long line of chiefs. He gave us blessings and then welcomed questions from our group. I was interested to know what the most pressing issue was that he faced as chief. He told us that it was the destruction of the cassava plants, a staple in their diet, which had required food aid from the government in Viti Levu. (I immediately decided I would make extra purchases at the village crafts shop.) I asked him about his ancestry and he said that the people of Fiji originally came from South Africa in large, seafaring canoes, though such canoes are no longer a part of their culture. Having learned about our own ethnicity from DNA tests, I would love to know more about his ethnic mix.

Wifi was non-existent, so we played cards and read books after dinner. A group of Danes laughed and sang around a fire, but their voices eventually faded and we heard only the roar of the surf as we fell asleep.

Two days later, we headed south to Naviti Island. On the ferry, Elise created a new character – a sweet, shy, blue-haired elf named Orchid.

On Nativi, we ran into some of the friends we’d met on Nacula Island.

After taking some photos, I claimed a beachside hammock in the shade of palms and was – at long last – able to truly relax.

Given the daily lodging/food/activities/transportation-related logistics…and homeschooling, my own coursework, photo editing, blogging, etc, that level of relaxation doesn’t happen often, so when it does, I add the experience to a special collection of memories to return to in times of need.

My first such experience was at the Baltic Sea when I was nine years old. It was low tide and I had discovered a little sand bump in the shallow water the size of my body. I lay down and was amazed at how dreamily comfortable it was on the soft sand in the warm water and told myself to always remember it. Another such experience took place in a cool, slate-walled pool in a boutique hotel in Paris where Elise’s Dad gently pulled me through the water as I floated on my back, eyes closed. Sigh.

In the meantime, Elise learned how to extract the goodness from coconuts Fiji-style. On a specially made bench with a built-in metal tool, she scraped the white coconut meat into a bowl. It was much more moist and flavorful than any coconut we’d ever had.

But then…she was shown how to squeeze the coconut milk from the shavings into a cup, and when we took a sip, we were astonished at how delicious it was! We learned that, in the islands, freshly extracted coconut milk is kept for at most one day, and I wondered how we might manage – without adding a bulky coconut bench to our minimalist apartment – to get a steady supply back home.

We did some more snorkeling and saw a giant, electric blue starfish, multicolored Christmas tree fish, and a giant clam. We watched the clam shut in stages: click (one inch), click (another inch), click, click, click until it was completely closed.

At night, the male staff performed a dance in long grass skirts (the female staff were conspicuously absent) and then put on a fire show on the beach. Elise freaked out when a dancer put the burning baton on his tongue, though afterwards she was allowed to touch the flame, and while it was hot, it did not burn.

The next day we walked with one of the two Swiss families we’d met through the rainforest to the other side of the island to reach Honeymoon Beach. Another postcard perfect place…and this time no sea lice. Bliss.

The last island we visited was Waya Lailai, which had a dramatic mountain rising high above the coastline. Our cabin was up a steep walkway lined with blossoms.

The men were busy bludgeoning special tree branches to form them into cord to tie bales of leaves onto the thatched rooftops of the bures, or cabins. They sat around a giant satellite dish as they worked – a fun contrast of modern and ancient. I told them about the Uros people of Bolivia who form floating islands out of reeds on Lake Titicaca (my blog post about our visit there is at this link). They seemed to listen intently, as if they were actively considering whether they could do the same with their materials. (How cool would it be to return to Fiji in 10 years and see the floating islands of Waya Lailai? lol)

The high point of our visit was snorkeling with sharks. Reef sharks are harmless, but we still felt a bit of trepidation at first. Our guide splashed a chunk of fish around in the water to attract the sharks. They showed up quickly.

Although they were shorter in length than Elise (my illogical measure of danger), I held onto her as we snorkeled to keep her ‘safe’. She got tired of my hovering, though, and pushed me away.

Special thanks to Katie Storey for these underwater pix.

At one point, the water suddenly turned dark, and a group of much larger sharks appeared. (Cue the Jaws soundtrack.) These were definitely longer than Elise(!) so I immediately swam over to her and grabbed onto the fabric of her swimsuit.

And then I saw one of the guides wielding a long, metal prong. Had the wrong kind of shark arrived? Was this a weapon to ward them off?! I pulled Elise towards the boat and popped above the water to ask the guide what the prong was for. He told me it was to spear small fish to attract more sharks. Whew! We were not in any danger, but to this day, every time I think of the large sharks circling below in the dark water, I get a chill. Elise, of course, remains unfazed: “Sharks are so cute! They are one of my new favorite animals!”

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Farewell Galapagos

Returning to Santa Cruz from slightly remote Isabela Island felt strangely familiar – a bit like we were coming ‘home’. It was similar to the feeling I had back in 1990-92 when returning from travel in South East Asia to my home in Kyoto and Nishinomiya, Japan, where I could read the signs and easily navigate the trains. It made me think about where home is for us now. We’ve officially unregistered from Berlin, and the last time we lived in the US was four years ago. So, in a way, the address I entered somewhat tongue-in-cheek in my new Leuchturm journal was accurate: “The World” .

And where will home be in the future? We both love Berlin and the friends we’ve made there, and I think the international schools there are terrific. Germany is also on the side of the angels in its approach to the Syrian refugee crisis. Raw documentary footage I’ve seen of Syrian children who’ve lost parents in the war is shattering – their need for help far outweighs our perceived need to keep ‘others’ out.

But Elise and I have also talked about spending a year in Paris. Or maybe we’ve yet to discover our future home? a village in New Zealand or in Vietnam? or perhaps a palm-fringed harbor in the South Pacific? I have a running joke with my niece, Rach (who happens to be both gorgeous and fiercely intelligent). Any time I come up with an idea such as ‘move to Germany’ or ‘travel the world for a year’, she announces that she doesn’t believe that it’ll happen. Even after we’d moved to Berlin, and I asked “Do you believe me now?”, she wrote: “Nope”. Oh the joy of looking forward to many more exotic locations and Nopes from Rach!

In any case, back on Santa Cruz, we fell into ‘old’ habits – we had breakfast at our favorite cafe, popped into the same shops, had an $8 lobster lunch at our favorite restaurant, took a water taxi to a beach we’d visited before and then explored a nearby salt marsh (Elise’s science lesson for the day).

We followed the trail through Opuntia cacti to Las Grietas, a swimming nook in a deep rock crevice. Fearless locals are known to climb the nearly vertical rock walls to plunge into the water below. During our visit, however, we saw only normal folks who were yelping at the chilly water and slipping on the rocks at ground level. My camera gave me a welcome excuse to stay on the platform, but Elise carefully made her way over the rocks and was rewarded with an invigorating swim.

For dinner, we returned to our favorite restaurant for the last time. Our waiter recognized us immediately and, smiling from ear to ear, offered us a great deal on a soup and grilled fish dinner.

The Galapagos are a very special place, and one day I hope we’ll return to explore Floreana and the other smaller islands.

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Elise’s drawing of Isabella Island

Elise drew her (part-wolf) alter ego, Sunny, and her sister Ashlyn on Isabela Island, where they mountain biked along the coast, touched a giant tortoise, went body boarding and snorkeling with colorful fish and tortoises, and saw the Wall of Tears (gray volcanic rocks in the upper right). Also depicted are sea lions, volcanic rocks, and Opuntia cacti on the beach, a water taxi in the harbor, and the tiny bird with whom Elise shared an apple.

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Isabela Island, Galapagos

This place feels much more remote than Santa Cruz – even slightly abandoned, which is a welcome thing.

With its squarish, concrete structures (many half-finished) and radio towers, however, Puerto Villamol is not especially charming at first glance. The roads around the town square are dirt while the park is paved. Go figure. Just a block or two away there are barren lots strewn with cinderblocks and plastic tubs, which reminded me of deep West VA, except instead of dirt, the ground is covered in black volcanic gravel like a rustic parking lot. Opposite a flamingo pond is what appears to be a 1950’s style power plant.

But the island holds many lovely surprises, such as Concha de Perla, a wooden walkway where sea lions snooze (you have to step over them!) through a mangrove swamp to a bay which is home to marine iguanas and giant tortoises.

There is also a long stretch of beach with turquoise green water, the softest sand ever, and pleasant beach cafes.

The restaurants that looked run-of-the-mill by day light up at night from the glow of lanterns. The seafood is also excellent. We took advantage of ubiquitous $8 set menu options and sampled the grilled fish, lobster, and fish soup and (apart from a mushy seafood spaghetti) enjoyed every bite.

Elise adores pools, and I wanted to give her a special experience during our final days in the Galapagos, so I booked a stay at The Wooden House (3x our normal budget) based on the photos of its big pool. But while the rooms were lovely and Zen-like, the pool ended up being teensy tiny (trick photography).

After one night we switched to another hotel with spacious rooms, gleaming floors, and hammocks on a breezy top-floor terrace. Having essentially won back some of our budget, I looked into guided tours. The options depicted in faded photos at the travel agencies, however, left a lot to be desired. There were tours of the Tuneles, Volcanes, and Tintoreras, but travelers we met said the volcano tour was not worth it, and it was much better to see the other sites yourself. So we rented snorkels ($6 for 2 of us for the afternoon) and swam in the bay with marine iguanas, giant tortoises, and many colorful fish (my favorite was a black fish with electric blue eyes and a yellow mouth), and then rode mountain bikes to see flamingos and tortoises at a conservation center where Elise was allowed by an enthusiastic guide to touch a highly interactive tortoise! It was amazing looking into this 100+ year old creature’s eyes, who shrunk back into his/her shell any time we gestured too wildly.

We then rode a 5k path along gorgeous coastline which eventually turned inland.

There were various scenic lookout points marked with large signs for “Green Ponds”, “Round Pool”, “Hidden Pool” etc (was like shopping for sights at a supermarket), as well as a high platform with 360 degree views of the island.

Elise decided to forego the climb in favor of having a snack, which she shared with two little birds. As a gearhead, I was absurdly pleased to be able to offer her one of our tiny, ultralight camping chairs for the first time.

From the lookout platform, there was sea as far as the eye could see in one direction, and uninhabited, scrub-covered land in the other that disappeared into a wall of fog. I felt the desolation of the place and had a flicker of melancholy.

The path ended at the towering 100m long Wall of Tears, which was built by convicts under abusive conditions at the time of the island’s penal colony (1946-59). The wall appeared to be made entirely of volcanic rocks and was in the middle of nowhere, separating nothing. It provided us with the opportunity to discuss human rights and capital punishment. Without prompting, Elise told me that she believes that even convicts should not be abused since they are already paying for their crimes by being locked up, and that we do not have the right to kill other human beings – even murderers. (Brava Elise! I am less certain about how society should punish child molesters/murderers).

But our visit to the island wasn’t all about heavy discussion. The next day, Elise tried body boarding for the first time. The surf was great and she managed to ride a few waves all the way to the shore. Since this is the precursor to surfing, her surfboarding cousin Nele will be proud!

As we sped away from Isabella, the shape of the island revealed itself. The day we’d arrived, there was heavy fog obscuring the coastline. Elise thought she’d caught a glimpse of mountains behind the clouds, but wasn’t sure. Indeed, we saw a giant, gently sloping volcano as we sped away, one of six that form Isabela’s seahorse shape. There were also smaller islands that came into view – strange, unfamiliar shapes that formed no pattern in my mind. How do the children growing up on Isabela view those same shapes? What stories do they have to describe them?

During the two-hour ride, I held Elise tightly on my lap because she felt a bit of seasickness. I was unable to write or listen to my university courses or read my Kindle as I usually do during commutes, so I spent the time thinking about what we’d experienced. I was pleased that Elise had had a number of firsts – snorkeling, body boarding, mountain biking – and that the island had offered a few terrific science lessons – tortoise breeding and conservation, the function of mangroves and coral, how life can take root on a barren volcanic rock in the middle of the ocean, daily rhythms of sea lions and iguanas, and how heritable traits may give offspring an advantage in a particular ecological niche (eg tortoises on the Galapagos developed especially long necks to be able to eat cacti). Elise had also learned a bit about history (European colonization), ethics, sociology (none of the merchants on the islands undercut the competition, and they refused to let newcomers invest in the island without first living there for two years), and even economics (given scarcity and the cost of transporting goods, prices were higher on the island). All good stuff.

I also reflected on the fact that I felt completely comfortable being tossed about by the waves – even though it sometimes felt like a roller coaster ride. I suffer from claustrophobia (made worse when confined spaces are crowded) and misophonia (eating noises, inane TV, etc), but not at all from motion sickness or aquaphobia, acrophobia, aviophobia (alektorophobia, consecotaleophobia, or arachibutyrophobia, lol), or anything else really, so with a wide view of the silvery sea and the roar of the waves drowning out any other sound, I found that I was extremely content and relaxed right up through our arrival back in Santa Cruz.

But now…my imagination is all fired up by the prospect of visiting the floating islands of Lake Titicaca, Peru!

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Santa Cruz Island, Galapagos

We finally made it to the Galapagos! We arrived at the airport on tiny Baltra island, took the ferry to the main island, Santa Cruz, and then the 40 min bus south to Puerto Ayora ($2! vs $25 taxi). Right away we saw some of the animals for which the Galapagos are famous – a blue-footed booby and manta ray in the harbor, marine iguanas sunning themselves on the sidewalks, a sea lion feasting on a fish in the mangroves, and pelicans hanging out at the fish market.

Later, we saw geckos and little birds at Casa de Lago, a charming cafe, where fruit salad, omelets and pancakes are served at rustic tables to jazz music. We took the time every morning to write in our beloved Leuchturm journals.

We also saw the tortoises at the Charles Darwin Research Station – little babies munching loudly on bright green stalks and giant, slow-moving adults.

The best surprise for Elise, however, was when a playful sea lion joined us while we were swimming in the bay at Las Grietas!

For me, the highlight was walking the long and winding trail through twisted scrub brush and towering cacti to Tortuga Bay, which has one of the most splendid beaches in South America. The current is quite strong, so I held Elise’s hand tightly while we let the warm waves wash over us again and again.

On our last day, we bought ferryboat tickets to Isabela Island and took our time strolling the main drag and peeking into shops. Elise loved the animal figurines and got a tiny tortoise and ceramic sea lion. I liked the t-shirts that made use of negative space to show manta rays and other marine life. Elise also tried (cooked) shrimp ceviche for the first time and liked it. We’re thinking of creating a cookbook with one special dish from each country we visit. Ceviche is now a contender, as is fish and yucca soup.

Elise drew her impressions of Santa Cruz with her character, Sunny (who’s part wolf), at our favorite cafe with floral vines, the darling little bird who begged at our table, a soft serve ice cream, palm tree, a sea lion and tortoise, and giant orange sunset.

On our last evening on the island, we joined the locals and tourists at the bustling strip of seafood restaurants with outdoor tables and had a filling plate of grilled fish and rice with sopa con queso (cheese soup). It was all rather pleasant, but after four days on Santa Cruz I felt a very strong urge to get away to a quieter, less developed place.