From Cochin to Mumbai

Back in February, I wrote this ...

At one point I past a couple of English guys thrusting a guitar into the face of a Laos shopkeeper. I paid little attention to this, but seconds later my ears pricked up. "Want a guitar?" shouted one of the guys to a stranger across the street. If the stranger replied I don't know, my instinct kicked in. "I'll have a guitar!" I said on the swivel. Whether the stranger across the road had even wanted it, I don't know - I never even looked in his direction! Within thirty seconds I found myself walking down the street with a barely used guitar on my back, tuner included! It all happened so quickly that we were already walking our separate ways when I realised I should have at least offered to buy the boys a drink! Back in my room I gave it a quick spin. It sounded great.

That was a long time ago. Now its eleven months later, and my journey is nearly over. One week ago I was in Cochin, a city I'd visited before. I spent some time here relaxing, but also planning my final week in India. I needed to make the long journey north. However, this was a very busy route, and finding a vacant train seat was proving difficult. After a frustrating day, I decided to join Hannah to a trip to the cinema. We saw Avatar, a Western film that was visually incredible but bored me hugely. However, for the first time I witnessed what Indians are like at the cinema; loud and boisterous. There is much applauding and whistling at the start and end of the film, not to mention during popular bits within the film itself. It was quite bizarre.

By the following day my decision was made; it made more sense for me to simply catch a plane north; This would be more comfortable, and would also allow me time to return to Alleppey for another backwater trip. On Friday, therefore, I said goodbye to Hannah (yet again!), and caught a bus south. However, despite all the bus journeys I have made over the last year, on this one I felt somewhat empty handed. It had become ever-clear to me over the past year that the guitar I had been handed in Laos should not be kept. It was handed to me by a couple of generous guys on the street, and therefore I made the decision to do the same. I intend my guitar to travel the world; passed from hand to hand from traveller to traveller. My decision of who to pass it to, by now, was obvious. During the many weeks I had been travelling with Hannah she had played my guitar more than me - and after having stated her approval of the idea of a travelling guitar, she had hinted that she would love to be the new bearer. I have therefore created a group on the website Facebook so everyone who owns the guitar can log where they have taken it, and on Friday I left my hotel guitar-less. Hannah now has some extra-luggage.

On arrival in Alleppey I soon bumped into Dave (aka Dave 2 aka Dave 1 aka Canadian Dave) at the guesthouse Hannah had recommended to him. He told me about the canoe trip that the other Dave (aka Dave 1 aka Dave 2 aka American Dave) had informed him about, and so I made a quick phone call and booked myself onto it.

On Saturday morning I met my canoeist at Alleppey boat jetty. Kunjachan, it was soon apparent, was a very friendly and very excitable local man who enjoyed ferrying canoeists across the backwaters, through villages, and in my case, letting them stay the night in his house. Joining me on the canoe part of the trip were Haidi from Finland and Gavin Webster, a former professional rugby union player for Northampton and Rotherham. He denied being famous.

The trip was very pleasant, yet very hot. We were punted round narrow canals and through friendly villages. There were many birds, and also early on a rattle snake shimmying by our canoe. Kunjachan's wife made us lots of food, and in the evening I joined Kunjachan in watching the history channel in his little house comprising of three tiny rooms.

The next day I woke up in my little room and was taken back to Allepey on the back of Kunjachan's son's motorbike. Later that day I found myself outside Allepey train station waiting to go to Trivandrum. As I waited I was approached by a bunch of guys all dressed in black. I had seen many of these people throughout the state of Kerela; they walk for many days or even weeks to get to the temple once a year. They are bare-footed and carry their belongings in a wrap on their heads. The friendly men told me that they were going to see their god in south Kerela. On Thursday he would appear before them as a small star that would rise from the ground into the sky. The most talkative man, whose English was excellent, was seeing the spectacle for the fifth time. They were very friendly and very interested in me, and the obligatory photo session finished off the interaction.

That evening I travelled to Trivandrum, and the following day I caught my plane to the final location of my travels; Mumbai. On my first evening I walked around the area around my hotel, and the next day I visited Elephanta Island and The Gateway Of India. I also saw The Taj Mahal Hotel, the prime location of the terrorist attacks which I mentioned in my very first blog entry back in 2008.

In the evening I bought an excellent seekh kebab before going to the cinema, something I had planned to do in Mumbai my entire Indian journey; Mumbai is Bollywood central.


Back in Delhi four months ago I remember being in my hotel room for three days straight; I was stricken with Delhi Belly. I was alone, but one familiar face kept coming to see me. As I watched TV, an advert for Coca-cola was rerun over and over again, and the terrible overacting of the main man in the advert began to annoy me; he was so bad. As the weeks and months went on, however, I noticed the man more and more. He was donning glasses and trying to be serious on hoardings for opticians, and then running around trying to be cool on crisps adverts. Lately, however, he had been even more prominent; his latest film, 3 Idiots, is huge. His name is Aamin Khan, and despite having been the most annoying man on my travels, it felt like I had little choice in what Bollywood film to watch.

To my surprise, 3 Idiots was pretty fun. I expected a dire movie concentrating on three Mr bean-esque characters, but actually the main trio didn't seem like idiots at all. Although much of the film was lost on me due to the language barrier, I actually found it funny in parts - whilst the Hindi understanding families around me found it an absolute riot. Having said that, they were surprisingly not as boisterous as the lot who joined me for Avatar in Cochin, although they did shoot up like they had been all shot at the same time when the screen instructed them to rise for the Indian national anthem at the start of the film. Aamin Khan, on the other hand, has become my favourite Indian actor - although I actually don't know any others.

It is now my final full day of travelling. Soon I hope to embark on a guided tour of Dharavi slum (which, despite my fears, is apparently very ethical and 80% of profits go to the slum).

Tomorrow, I go home. My next blog entry, I'm sure, will be written from a much more familiar place.