The great thing about going uphill is that there is a downhill after that.
We gradually left the tea gardens and cycled into cardamom territory. Unlike tea, cardamom is not an arresting plant. Knee high bushes, with large drooping leaves, they grow almost wild along the side of the roads we cycled on. It was hard to imagine, that this along with its cousins clove and pepper was what drove the Portuguese, the Dutch, the French and eventually, the English to take unimaginable risks across the great oceans and find India. It was not gold that paved the streets, but the spices that grew along them that brought them here, and made some of them stay....
Cycling uphill is gruelling, but downhill on those roads can be dangerous. You can reach speeds of 50-60 kmph, and there are hairpin turns, unexpected potholes and scores of lungi-clad, toddy-filled guys on bikes coming the other way. You got to be super careful. Unless you are Kunal Bajaj, that is. He tore down the hills, jumped BMX-style over the potholes, careened around trucks and cars, and scared the above lungi-clad, toddy-filled denizens shitless.
Needless to say, Kerala was beautiful - even more so when we cycled downhill. It was very easy to imagine, even on Day 2, why it was God's own country. But it was a non-alcoholic God. For all that I had heard, and experienced, about Kerala's love for brandy, Old Monk and its ilk, I could not, for the life of me, figure out where they drank it...
There were no bars in Kerala. We cycled close to 400 km over 8 days, drove a couple of hundred kms more, went through all parts of the country - cities, villages, suburbs, tea gardens, backwaters, forests - but we did not see a single proper liquor shop. For the record, we did not see any improper one either. There were a couple of apology of a liquor shop in Kochi. But that was it. We saw some toddy places, we saw plenty of inebriated Keralites, but no proper bar. There were those in five star hotels, but I would wager that the number of bars in Kerala are equal to the number of five star hotels there.
Anyway, we cycled a respectable 40KM on the hills, dropped off into deep slumber in the car for an hour and then cycled another 20 KM to finally arrive at Carmelia Haven at Vandanmedu. It was the best place we stayed on in terms of the rooms. Large, luxurious cottages (made of cement this time), great property. But lousy food. And, of course, no bar. Not a sign of it at Carmelia or at Vandanmedu, or anywhere else in 50 km radius.
For the record, we had some great food at lunch. We shocked our guides by stopping by a real hole in the wall place called Yuvraj Hotel and had the most amazing avial and fish curry with mountains of Kerala red rice. And many other things. All for a princely Rs. 340 for four people. We also discovered this great snack that they have all over Kerala - huge fried ball-shaped stuff, filled with jaggery, rice and coconut. Fried bombs, we dubbed them, and they remained that till the end of our journey - we could never remember what the locals called them.
Oh, and we had our first Kerala massage at Carmelia, with the most obstinate masseur we met. More on massages later...
The night was predictable - vodka, orange juice, food, sleep, aching bums, sore muscles....
(To be continued - Cycling in Kerala: Day 3: Pepper)
We gradually left the tea gardens and cycled into cardamom territory. Unlike tea, cardamom is not an arresting plant. Knee high bushes, with large drooping leaves, they grow almost wild along the side of the roads we cycled on. It was hard to imagine, that this along with its cousins clove and pepper was what drove the Portuguese, the Dutch, the French and eventually, the English to take unimaginable risks across the great oceans and find India. It was not gold that paved the streets, but the spices that grew along them that brought them here, and made some of them stay....
Cycling uphill is gruelling, but downhill on those roads can be dangerous. You can reach speeds of 50-60 kmph, and there are hairpin turns, unexpected potholes and scores of lungi-clad, toddy-filled guys on bikes coming the other way. You got to be super careful. Unless you are Kunal Bajaj, that is. He tore down the hills, jumped BMX-style over the potholes, careened around trucks and cars, and scared the above lungi-clad, toddy-filled denizens shitless.
Needless to say, Kerala was beautiful - even more so when we cycled downhill. It was very easy to imagine, even on Day 2, why it was God's own country. But it was a non-alcoholic God. For all that I had heard, and experienced, about Kerala's love for brandy, Old Monk and its ilk, I could not, for the life of me, figure out where they drank it...
There were no bars in Kerala. We cycled close to 400 km over 8 days, drove a couple of hundred kms more, went through all parts of the country - cities, villages, suburbs, tea gardens, backwaters, forests - but we did not see a single proper liquor shop. For the record, we did not see any improper one either. There were a couple of apology of a liquor shop in Kochi. But that was it. We saw some toddy places, we saw plenty of inebriated Keralites, but no proper bar. There were those in five star hotels, but I would wager that the number of bars in Kerala are equal to the number of five star hotels there.
For the record, we had some great food at lunch. We shocked our guides by stopping by a real hole in the wall place called Yuvraj Hotel and had the most amazing avial and fish curry with mountains of Kerala red rice. And many other things. All for a princely Rs. 340 for four people. We also discovered this great snack that they have all over Kerala - huge fried ball-shaped stuff, filled with jaggery, rice and coconut. Fried bombs, we dubbed them, and they remained that till the end of our journey - we could never remember what the locals called them.
Oh, and we had our first Kerala massage at Carmelia, with the most obstinate masseur we met. More on massages later...
The night was predictable - vodka, orange juice, food, sleep, aching bums, sore muscles....
(To be continued - Cycling in Kerala: Day 3: Pepper)
