11. Arriving in Kerela (Travels 2022)

Biddy’s Boots #11

Thiruvananthapuram, Kerela

8 August 2022

I am not proud of the way I arrived in  Thiruvananthapuram. Nope, not one bit. But I’ll paint the picture anyway.

It all hit a boiling point when I called my dad and he told me he couldn’t talk he was in the shower. I basically put down on him snarking, “I’ll sort it out my self then don’t worry.”

My 11hr flight had been spent sitting in the isle seat next to a elder man who religiously got up every 45 minutes or so to walk around the plane. I of course did not sleep a wink. Point being, I was tired.

Passport control kept me at the border until everyone else even the stewardesses had passed through, deciphering whether the 1 year visa I received at the New Delhi airport was legitimate. I eventually made my way toward the exit collecting my lone bag in the carasole, the airport quiet and empty itself. No one at the help desk. And the ATM would not allow me to draw. I had 620 ruppees on me with no idea ho much I needed to make my journey to the ashram. I eventually found a man who spoke some English and he allowed me to hotspot. I tried to call my brother. No answer. Then my dad and well we know where he was. I mean, how ridiculous was my behaviour?

I think that’s what I find the hardest about traveling alone: making every decision on my own, and always having to problem solve and weigh out the options on my own. And in India, that’s exceptionally demanding as apposed to say, in a country like Europe. Sometimes I want someone to ‘brom’ with, to share the “wrong” choices with, to take turns switching between being the uplifter and the one needing the uplifting. Unfortunately my alter ego and I always seem to share the same emotions.

I was so stubborn that when I walked outside the airport and saw the glorious palm trees I said to them “no palm trees, don’t even try,” while they stood there ready to welcome me and clearly signal that I was near the ocean - did I realize it?! But no, instead I pretended not to notice, I walked over to the taxi stand and jumped into a 420INR taxi to the bus station. 200INR left.

I arrived at the city’s central station and it was busy and bustling. Most importantly though, every vendor had a samosa on hand and some chai tea brewing. I went straight to the first one and ordered one of each. I know from my previous visit that a cup of chai fixes just about anything.

I hopped on the local bus, which was missing all its windows. Well, it had the pains, just no glass. Genius - especially in this exceptionally warm climate. We had not even left the station area and already been t-boned by another bus. I pursed my lips knowingly and thought, “oh India, you haven’t changed a bit!”

As I sat on the bus, narrating the whole episode back to myself, I eventually cracked a smile and gave myself this look that suggested I knew I was being utterly ridiculous white simultaneously trying to look cute to release the tension in the hopes that the victim of my mood gives out a laugh and shakes his head. (Does anyone else  find themselves carrying out their facials expressions when role playing scenarios in their head?)

None the less, I took 3 conscious breaths, noticed the distinct aroma wafting through the air of Thiruvananthapuram and I finally surrendered to the presence of the trees as they lined both sides of the road flickering past like spectators at a marathon. The conductor was a woman. “Hmmmm,” I thought, “I like Kerela.”

I also reminded myself of the power of prayer that I had experienced when I had previously visited. I gave myself a little pep talk and softened.

I knew I was back in India by the way the bus driver swirled along the road, breaking abruptly every so often. I arrived at the next bus stop and hopped out. Kerela felt different - the people, the smell, the vegetation, the food. All almost immediately noticeable. I enquired to find the 2nd leg of my trip would be only 15 rupees (the 1st had been 30). You know what that meant? Enough left over for another chai tea! Enough for several actually - chai’s were going for 10 ruppees here on the south coast.

I befriended a lovely woman in her little shop and sat down to chat and eat a “puff” which she persuaded me to try. A puff pastry filled with pickled veg and a boiled egg. I then made my way to the local loos and aquatinted two exceptionally short women along the way there, as they and pointed and spoke to me in Hindi. When we arrived at the washrooms, a fee was required. I had left all my bags in the shop and these two, although clearly with less than I, did not hesitate to pay my way and insisted I use the lavatory first.

I chatted through the usual language barriers whilst waiting for my next bus. Oh I’ve missed the warmth of the Indian people. How quickly the spirit of Kerela reached my heart and gave me warm and gentle hug, welcoming me in.

Thank you, India, thank you.