Indian Dispatches: God's Own Country

I wanted to begin this post with a few 'thank-you's. Upon our arrival back in Kerala after the New Year's trip to Delhi and Agra, Jenna and I found packages shipped from Jenna's mother Barb and our dear family friend Barb Reedstrom. Both packages contained Christmas cookies that did not quite arrive in Tirur before we left for vacation. We have already consumed them all.

In addition, we have gotten packages from my parents and my Uncle Kent, Aunt Antha and their daughter Leah--with contents ranging from back issues of The New Yorker to popcorn packets to beef jerky. (And, of course, toilet paper). We feel so blessed to have such thoughtful family and friends looking out for us from thousands of miles away. It needed to be mentioned.

Keralites call their state "God's Own Country". (I know my friend Matt Wilson, a native of the state of Georgia, won't like to hear that.) One day during vacation, though, we plainly saw why. This picture begins to do the phrase justice--serenity defined.

My parents, Jenna and I drove around rural Kerala the second day of my parents' trip. We were attended by Valsan, a friend of a friend from back in the States. Valsan lived in a small town outside Kochi and was in the process of setting up a bed-and-breakfast and his family home. To make ends meet in the interim, he worked as our guide for a couple of days.

He first took us to an elephant training center, which was both interesting and somewhat heart-rending. The elephants were being trained to work in the state's rubber plantations and to also be ceremonial animals at Hindu temples. Though Valsan insisted they were treated well, we couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt looking at the elephants' thick legs manacled to chains staked into the ground.

Mom sipping coconut water at the elephant training ground. You can buy this stuff pretty much everywhere in southern India for Rs. 4 or less per coconut. Jenna is a fan; I'm not. Maybe it owes to our first experience drinking coconut water in Bangalore. I got one that, I think, had already fermented. Normally, they are semi-sweet drinks consumed with abandon on the streets here. You will find the empty shells of coconuts tacked chest-high in some alleyways.

The mother elephant at the elephant training ground. She normally gave rides for Rs. 200 but she wasn't feeling well. She was noticeably listless,her eyes drowsily fluttering and her ears drooping. It added to our feelings of guilt.

This picture does not look that interesting, but it becomes a bit moreso when you realize this is raw rubber taken directly from rubber trees. We stopped at a small rubber plantation and saw how the process works. The workers tap the tree's bark and let the rubber--which looks like Elmer's glue--drip out of the tree. Then, they add water and let the rubber coalesce into these molds.

And here is the rubber sap coming out of the tree. A small plastic dish tied to the tree catches the goo. The workers said it takes sap from 10 trees to make one mold (like the ones in the previous picture).