It is 16 weeks to the BIG TRIP and I have just returned from a quick visit to India with Peter and the children. They have never been anywhere in Asia before, so this was a real adventure for them.
We arrived at Trivandrum, 5am India time, following the usual long flight over. Both Cian, aged 8 and Jec, aged 13, were suitably impressed with the in-flight entertainment plus the duty free in Doha.
The moist Indian heat enveloped us as we got off the plane, warm humid air filling our lungs and the reassuring “I'm back” swept over my body as familiar aromas and sounds surrounded me.
Having booked no accommodation for the entire trip, we caught a taxi down to Light House Beach in Kovalam where we sat on the beach front, in the dark, until the sun made its way into the clear morning sky, heralding the new day. Breakfast was had as the first of the cafés awoke and then we began our wanderings to look for rooms, suitable to our needs and pocket. The first ones we found were indeed good, but so was the price attached. It was also right on the sea front and although the breeze would have been refreshing, the evening noise from the people and cafés would have become annoying over time.
We wandered on, down one of the side alleys, around a few corners and found just what we needed. Eight rooms on two stories, good sized balconies overlooking a small courtyard with a well and grass plus three washing lines! You can never find enough washing lines in those posh places!! The bags were unpacked, an hours sleep was had and we were ready to face the day and headed for the beach.
Kovalam is a tourist resort. There is no getting away from the fact but it is still a nice place to catch your breath, as well as being a good place to ease the children into a whole new concept of life. The temperatures were 35+, the mosquitoes annoying, the language and people unfamiliar yet the cold bottles of Coke, Cheese Jaffles and Pizza allowed everyone to feel safe.
We spent two days in Kovalam getting acclimatised and making travel plans. Our two rooms were everything we could require, so we checked our dates, re-ran our plans and booked the same rooms ready for our return in two weeks. A taxi was called to take us to Trivandrum Bus Station and we were on our way.
Our first stop was to be the Neyar Dam up in the Cardamom mountains. When Mark and I had visited it 6 years earlier it had been in pristine condition. The Dam itself had been furnished with Victorian lamps and iron work, so that one felt as if one should promenade along its walkway, in full evening dress with a large parasol! This time however the place had the feeling of long term neglect.
Flowerbeds lay empty and parched, the government Guest House was closed for refurbishment, the Boat trips sat empty. We sat in the shade of the Guest House and listened to the sounds of the lake .
Cian found a huge Millipede, Jec took some photos. Without accommodation available our plans had to change, a new idea formed and we began the walk back down the hillside to the bus station.
On route we met another family on their way to the top. They were as curious about us as the boys were curious about them, so pleasantries and names were exchanged, photos were taken and amid much thanks and broad smiles, we continued our way back to the bus stop.
On our way up to the Dam we had passed through a town decked out with bunting, as we returned to the bus station there, we became more aware that something unusual was happening. The town was full of people, small fires lined the pavements manned by busy women in stunning sari's.
Ribbons and bunting flew overhead, horns sounded loudly and music blasted from speakers throughout the town. Not that this was unusual but the fires on the pavements were. With smiles and sign language we checked the times of the connecting bus. We had an hour to wait. Food supplies were sought as Pon Mudi food is limited and I wanted to make sure the children would not go hungry.
We found a lovely little shop that sold cakes and Samosa's, much to Peters delight, as well as the usual crisps and snacks. Loaded with our lunch, plus enough biscuits and drinks to last the evening, we went to sit on the pavement just out side the Bus Station.We soon became the focus of attention as the only white faces in town. A lovely man wandered over to say hello and to practice his English. Having chatted for ten minutes about our names, work, ages and where we came from, he said goodbye, only to return a few moments later with a large bunch of red grapes for us all! Enormous smiles and words of thanks flowed between us all, before we moved into the Bus Station itself to find our bus.
While we waited we got chatting to a Dr. who ran an orphanage back up at the Dam. It is amazing how many people want to talk to you when you are the only white face in town. I asked about the cooking on the side of the road and all the fine sari's that people were wearing. He explained that today was a big Festival Day. He wasn't sure which Deity was being celebrated, as he was Christian, but he did know that it was a huge celebration that would last for at least two days. We chatted for a while longer about his work and our plans, he kindly pointed out the right bus when it arrived, shouting instructions to the driver as he helped us on board. We waved our goodbyes and settled for the trip up into the mountains.
The bus was packed upon its arrival into the bus station and even more packed by the time it came for its departure. People clung to the overhead bars, children were piled up onto laps, bags were passed back and for, as people settled into any available space. The breeze through the open windows was most welcome after the time we had spent in the bus station, and the views on the way through the valley and up further into the mountains, were breathtaking.
As we drove along, various people were deposited at their destinations and the seating became less crowded. Cian was able to get off my lap and sit next to the lady behind us. At the next stop, however, an entire school of junior ages children piled onto the bus squashing into Cian's seat, amongst others, and chattering nineteen to the dozen to him.
I passed over a tube of polos and friendships were instantly struck. The children continued with us for quite a distance until, as suddenly as they arrived, they were gone.
The climb up to Pon Mudi was slow and twisting. Twenty two hairpin bends mark the beginning of the long haul up the side of the mountain. The palms gave way to rubber trees and tea bushes. Workmen lined the sides of the road, widening it by a few foot. I wondered about their timing with the monsoon arriving in only a few weeks!
Pon Mudi As Seen On TV!! For any of you who managed to see Mark and I on the Holiday Showdown Program, Pon Mudi is indeed as it was portrayed. Totally breathtaking. The actual site is nothing special, yet the views and feelings of peace and tranquillity are abundant. Bird song fills the air, hills stretch outward to the horizon, miles and miles of tea, multitudes of trees, valleys, greens of every hue fill the vista.
We checked into our 'basic' rooms and went exploring. The park was a huge hit with the children, the swinging chair bringing shrieks of terror from Cian,
as Jec swung it up to the horizontal bar. Dinner, as expected, was spicier than the children and myself could cope with. 'No Spices' had been requested and delivered according to the cook, yet it was still enough to bring tears to the eyes and numbness to the throat! Armed with their packets of biscuits, the children and I scanned the ice cream selection in the tiny shop and retired to our balconies happy. 
Once the sun sets, darkness envelopes the mountain. Tiny lights twinkled amongst the distant hills, pin pointing small hamlets but these lights were soon extinguished as the people found their beds. We sat out in the still night, a full moon rose, silhouetting the lightning struck tree outside our balcony.
Although beautiful, one night in the isolation of the mountain is enough, with two boisterous boys!! By lunch time the next day they had climbed everything that was climbable, eaten everything they had hidden around their back packs, written and posted their postcard and were ready to move on.
The trip back down the mountain is also so much more fun than the slow climb up. The bus hurtled down the middle of the road, brakes squealing and smoking, as corners were taken at speeds that buses are not meant to take corners at! Our bus driver informed us we had to change buses to get to Trivandrum, as they only went to our connecting bus station and back up the mountain.
As we pulled into the bus stop he pointed to our next bus, it was the one pulling in behind us. Off the one bus and straight onto the next and we were once again hurtling along the road on our way back to the city.
From the bus stop in Trivandrum, we walked across the road and into the train station.
'Train goes five minutes!' the helpful Indian ticket lady informed me. I grabbed the tickets, yelled to the children and set off at a gallop towards the platform. A train was just pulling out! 'Next platform' the platform manager informed me. We raced back up the stairs along the walkway back down onto the next platform and dived onto the packed train. We were off!Now when I had said we would do a day of travel, followed by a day of rest, I had not envisioned just how much travel I could squeeze into the day.
Our day of rest had just evolved into two long bus trips and a train ride and it was still only 5pm!We arrived at Varkla ready for a sit down, as the train ride had not produced any spare seating until the last stop. The rickshaw dropped up at the Cliff Top and with our bags on our backs, we began our search for rooms.
The Bamboo Village had also stared in the Holiday Showdown program and I wanted to take the boys and Peter there. As we walked along the cliff top, I realised how much had changed over the 4 years. All the gaps were now full. Gone were the huts and small rooms, the tiny bars and stalls. Posh hotels offering ayurvedic treatments, manicured lawns and glass fronted shops now adorned the walkway. 
As we neared the end of the cliff walk, these new structures gave way to the ones I remembered and around the final bend, lay the Bamboo Village. Not quite as I remembered it, as all the huts had been rebuild, but it still boasted the open garden, the swinging hammocks and the private huts. 
We booked in and sat down, as a huge thunderstorm swept in from the sea!!Dinner that evening was taken not far from the Village as all the lights went out during the power-cut and rain was still falling from the thunderstorm. We climbed up onto the balcony of the restaurant next door with candles to light our way. Menus were produced and the 'delay due to no power' explained. They had food! We didn't care how long it would take, the fact they had food and somewhere dry to sit was plenty!
We sat, watching the lightening far out to sea. We sat, as the lightening rushed in to be overhead, enormous flashes and thunderous noise filled the air, then retreated back towards the tiny fishing boats bobbing on the horizon. Each flash illuminated hundreds of these boats, each roar made us feel sorry for those out there, while we sat safe with our wonderful meal.
The rain abated and we went to our beds. While Cian slept, the rest of us sat on the balcony watching lightening stream horizontally across the sky. Orange in colour, like Catherine wheeled fireworks they danced across the horizon. Never have I seen lightening like it, it was captivating to watch.
The next day dawned bright and clear.
Armed with our new sun hats, we headed for the beach via the Blueberry Restaurant. There is a constant breeze on the beach that is refreshing and dangerously cooling! By the end of the afternoon we were glowing a healthy pink. Cian had spent the whole time surfing the waves in a T-shirt and had been protected from the rays. Our Indian Tans were now well on their way.The rest of the afternoon was spent in and around the huts, before dinner was ordered back at the German Bakery. They had been so good to us the night before, we wanted to see what the place looked like with the lights on. Vegetable noodles for Cian, fresh grilled King prawns for Jec, Indian dishes for Peter and I to share. A feast for all!!
Thunder rolled in the distance, lightening arrived to illuminate the show, the rain stayed away until we were safely back on our balconies, cooling the evening air. The smell of the first rain is something to be treasured. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
In the mornings, down in the bay, just beyond the cliffs, the fishermen hauled in their nets by hand. I had watched them the day before, for a good hour, while the children and Peter slept. This morning I wanted the children to see them too. Morning calls were issued, breakfast was postponed due to non activity in the dressing department and I marched them all of to see the fish!!
Despite their reluctance and initial 'why do I want to see fish?', they were all suitably surprised at the flurry of activity landing the nets caused. One recently landed net, was in the process of being distributed, amid much calling, shouting, arm throwing and general banter. Fish eagles filled the sky, crows and egrets lined the beach.
As we made our way back toward the cliff, we passed men, still pulling strongly on their ropes, inching the nets closer to the shore.
Seeing three more sets of hands (mine were not required) they called the boys over and gave them places on the rope. Heave and step back, heave and step back. The nets inched in as I rolled them fresh cigarettes. Unfortunately, we needed to get back to our rooms to pack our bags, so with thanks from our team, we waved them goodbye.
From Varkala we were heading north to Kollom and a back water cruise to Alleppey. A rickshaw to the train, a train to the city and a rickshaw to find us rooms!! The first were just a 'wee' bit outside our price range. We should have guessed when the livery dressed door man offered to carry our bags and we were ushered into the lift to carry us up the six foot to reception. I had mentioned the figures 3/400 to the driver. He obviously hadn't heard the '/'! We made our excuses the moment we saw the tariff and walked back down the six foot of steps to the doorway, which was opened politely for us.
With our translations now in order we found 'other' rooms around the corner, between the kebab shop and the pan shop, up the corridor and along the stairs! I would never have found it alone and the rooms were great.
The town was hot, no cliff top breeze, no cooling thunderstorms, just the heavy humid heat of the streets. We showered and set off for the harbour to arrange our tickets for the morning ferry.
To my great surprise, I was recognised by one of the ticket men. He had arranged all the boats for the TV program and was delighted to see me back. With our tickets safely in our bags we turned back to find some supper. The only place I remembered, was in a large open square surrounded by three stories of shops linked by balconies, I was quite impressed that I found the place so easily, as my sense of direction is limited, to say the least.
The children's simple pizzas turned out to be spicier than Peters and my curry, so we shared things around and finished it all up with ice creams. A spot of shopping, a whole new wardrobe of T-shirts for Jec, as long as he carried them I wasn't objecting, and we retired to our rooms with our rickshaw man booked for the morning.
The ferry had also evolved over the 4 years since my last visit.
Gone was the small, diesel chugging boat and in was the two tiered, soft seating down stairs, blue sun shield covered upstairs, big boat! We settled ourselves upstairs, reorganised the bags of treats and drinks and began the slow scenic journey along the back waters.
The sights and activities, I explained, to the best of my ability as we glided along. Chinese fishing nets, home-stays, coir stacks, rice fields, boats with eyes, boats so loaded it was amazing they still floated, children waved and called for 'school pen',
Jec slept while Cian wandered around the boat making friends. After the lunch stop of a 'traditional thali meal' served on a paper banana leaf, Cian managed to get himself invited into the steering cabin and promptly drove the boat along the river and under the next bridge. His face was a picture when he told us it had been him who had been driving!
We had arranged back at the Bamboo Village, to stay at their sister home-stay, Bamboo House, that had only opened two weeks before. Sanjay jumped on the boat just before the last stop, informing us that he had arranged a rickshaw to pick us up. We piled our bags into the back, climbed on board and headed out into the night.
Bamboo House is 2km from the ferry terminal and very quiet.
It is also extremely posh! Large tiled rooms, exquisite bathrooms and free internet made it THE place to rest for 48 hours. Their restaurant wasn't quiet finished yet (nor started for that matter) so dinner was back in town. Rickshaw's were so reasonable (50p) that this wasn't a problem and having unloaded the bags, showered in hot water and changed, we went back into town for food. There is however, only one restaurant in town, of any reasonable standard and it is a 'find a table and sit down affair'. They were heaving, a good sign I know but not when you have two hungry boys to feed. 'Ten minutes' we were promised, so we went around the corner to shop for the next days supplies. When we returned, they were just as heaving but true to their word they ushered us in as soon as they found space. This was by far one of the cheapest places we ate at all holiday and the food was great! £2 saw us all full and they even did takeaway!!
Happy and full, we returned to the street to find a rickshaw home. A Very Happy driver invited into his vehicle, 'I take you home!' he beamed at us. We told him where we were staying, 'Yes yes I know' he called enthusiastically as we drove away. As we continued along the way, with Cian sharing his seat, our Very Happy driver gave Cian the controls! 'You drive' he beamed and let go!!!!!
'No problem, No problem!' he called as we protested in the back, 'He very good driver!'
We hurtled from one side of the road to the other, laughter filling the air along with cries of protest as we hit one bump after the other. Soon, however, we grew concerned about where we were actually going. It was very dark by now but we were sure we hadn't travelled this far the first time. We called to our driver who was laughing away in the front, he ignored us and we careered on with Cian still in control. As we approached a bridge, we were sure we were going the wrong way. We had defiantly not crossed a bridge the first time. We stopped. We re-informed our driver of the Home-stay we wanted. He looked blank. I got out the card with the map on the back. He got out to look at it in the light of his dim headlamp. He turned it over. He turned it back. He turned it upside down. We tried not to look concerned!
'OK!' he announced and we turned the rickshaw around. At the next group of people he stopped and got out of the rickshaw. They all looked at the map, they all turned it upside down! Then recognition filled someone's eyes and amid much arm pointing and head waggling, thing were sorted out.
A 2km simple ride had turned into a hearty exploration of the back-streets, Cian had driven a rickshaw, we had laughed ourselves silly and our driver was still Happy, what more could we ask. Free inter-net!
With Cian safe in his bed, Jec sat up all night Face-booking friends and proudly informing us it was snowing back in Wales!! Tomorrow was a rest day, so we left him up chatting and went to bed.The sun shone bright and hot the next morning, as I set off to walk my rounds. I meandered down alleyways, said good morning to children and grown ups alike as new faces passed my way. 'What is your name? Where are you from?' Again, I was a white face in a strange place and people wanted to know who I was. Smiles and hand shakes followed and I returned to the Bamboo House happy and relaxed. Cian, Jec and Peter had discovered Carrom's, a great board game that involves flicking counters across an enclosed area, in an attempt to 'pot' them into the corners, a bit like pool. I picked up my book and a pillow and lay down on one of the hammocks for the day.
That evening, having already eaten at the Taffi restaurant, we orderer a takeaway. Sanjay and Anthony disappeared on the bike (the one that Cian and Jec had spent the afternoon on, running errands with Sanjay!) to collect our meal. I tell you this is the best place! Plates were produced, non matching cutlery found and under a clear sky, with the mossie burner smoking away, we tucked into a fabulous dinner.
We had thought about moving on to Kottyam, which involved another boat ride and then a very long train trip back to Trivandrum. By the time we has sat around all day, eaten our fabulous meal and drunk a few cold kingfishers, our hearts weren't in it, so we made the decision to catch the bus back to Varkala instead. Anthony arranged for a rickshaw to pick us up in the morning and we went to bed, once more leaving Jec on-line.
Breakfast of toast and marmalade was served on the balcony.
Our bags were packed, new people were arriving and the boys were busy. When a rickshaw arrived we grabbed our bags, called goodbye and headed out of the gates. We had asked to go to the bus station but as we drew near to the jetty our driver stopped. 'No, No, Bus station Please'. He looked confused. 'We go Bus station', I tried again. 'One minute please' he replied and pulled out his phone. He smiled, chattering nervously and glancing at us sitting in his rickshaw. He came off the phone. 'One minute please' he said again. 'Friend coming' and pointed across the waterway. In India anything is possible and so you go with the flow.
A motor bike arrived, more conversations, more looking at us, more smiles. It was now getting close to the bus departure time! 'Bus Station?' I asked a bit more forcefully'. 'One minute please' they smiled!! Another phone call, another flurry of words and the mistake was found. The 'other' people in the Bamboo House were going on the boat trip! We had got into the wrong rickshaw!!
OK! to the bus station and then back, quickly for the 'other' people. Heads nodded, smiles broadened and we were off again. But the bus had gone. This is India, go with the flow. There will be another bus soon. We bought drinks, samosa's. We watched the world go by and caught another bus.
At Kollom we got off, stretched our legs, chatted to an Irish and German girl who were sitting further down, got back on and continued on our way. Three hours later we had to change buses. The girls got off too. '150 rupees to the beach', a rickshaw driver called to us. We looked at each other, we looked at the dust and the heat, we looked at the girl, sounds good to me we called and piled in!! By mid afternoon we were showered, unpacked and set for two days of rest on the beach!!
The days passed in a restful way. Where to eat, being the biggest decision we had to make as the meal times passed at regular intervals. Gifts were bought, clothes were washed and the tans got deeper.
I had arranged for us all to visit an Elephant Sanctuary on our way back to Kovollom. Cian was very excited as we climbed the steps to get onto our elephant. With a slow methodical swing, our elephant sauntered out of the gates and along the road. I pointed out pineapples growing in peoples gardens, Cian laughed as the elephant's ears swung back and forth over his feet, we chatted about the birds we saw, what elephants ate and how enormous their poo piles were!!
When we returned Peter and Jec were just coming back from their ride. As they approached they called that their elephant had charged out of the gate, amist much yelling and rope pulling from his handler! 
They were defiantly paler than they had been when they left but were recovering quickly! Their ride was chained in the corner in disgrace, while we fed the others bananas.
It was 800 rupee to take the rickshaw all the way back to Kovollom (£11), we had a choice, rickshaw to the door for £11, or a day of bus stops, as we worked our way though the various connections. We handed over the money and climbed back in. I should explain the rickshaw set up at this point. As you may have noticed from the photos, Peter is not a small person. We had discovered that if he got in first, followed by Jec, I could squeeze into the back, if I sat forward, with my knees pointing outwards slightly. Cian, being so small, was squeezed onto the drivers seat and told to hang on. This arrangement had worked well so far, but we hadn't travelled any great distances, and not on any main roads!
As we approached the main highway Cain was told to sit in the back, as it was illegal for him to be in the front!! Now they tell us!! You will have noted, from my previous description, that there was not a lot of vacant space in the back, but join us he had to do, for over an hour!!!!
Like sardines, like we peeled ourselves from the rickshaw at our destination! Circulation flowed once more as pins and needles shot through our legs and buttocks. It had been an experience. Not one to be necessarily repeated, but none the less a memorable experience. We dropped the bags at our rooms and headed for the beach!!
We had three days left. Three days to read, rest, swim, play with new friends, eat and sleep. It was going to be hard. We made sand sculptures, ate sizzling prawns, bought silver and throws, we sat out under the stars and watched the waves hit the beach, we smiled a lot.
I had opened a door for the children and possibly Peter. A door that showed them the freedom of travel, the liberation of conversation, the gifts of friendships. That door is theirs now, to open further, or to leave just slightly ajar until the time is right.
