Saturday 7th December
This morning we all piled into Shebi Uncle's taxi and plunged back into the Kerala traffic. Shebi Uncle is the same driver who took us from the airport to The Retreat in Vengoor. He prioritises Appacha and Ammachi: whenever they need a taxi driver, they give him a call. Labour here is cheap, so it's not unusual to take a taxi over long distances, even when stopping along the way. The driver simply waits in the car until you're ready to go again.
We stopped on the way at a waterfall; beautiful to look at but crammed all around and buzzing with activity. Just getting from out parking spot to the viewing area was a challenge in itself, as we had to squeeze between the traffic, parked cars and pedestrians. A couple of monkeys sat on the conrete barrier, totally unbothered by their noisy surroundings. Ajay warned me that they'll snatch a phone if given the opportunity, so I pushed mine deeper into the pocket of my dress. There I also spotted something even more rare than monkeys; for the first time since we'd left Singapore, I spotted another white person.
Before we left I had a difficult decision to make: continue our long and bumpy journey on a full bladder, or brave the public restroom. I chose the latter, Taking my BYO toilet paper from my bag, I approached the building with Ajay by my side. A sign at the door indicated the entry prices: urinal - 5 rupees; solids - 10 rupees. I was shown to an enclosed stall with a sitting toilet. It was clean, but water covered the floor and the toilet seat from someone's liberal use of the bidet. I gave the overall experience 4/10 stars, and felt proud of myself for trying another new experience.
Leaving there, we climbed in elevation until the roads became increasingly steep and windy, sometimes with a sharp drop off as well. At the fuel station, the attendent filled our tank - no need to leave your car to pay. We passed many signs warning of elephant crossings ahead, but given that one side of the road dropped off to a steep descent, it was unclear to me exactly where they would be expected to cross.
After a few more hours of bumping along, we made our second stop at a pay-to-enter park beside a lake. Being a Saturday afternoon, the park was fairly busy. A couple of young men approached me asking, "Selpie? Selpie?" I nodded and smiled for the camera.
Finally we arrived at Munnar. The scenery was picturesque: rolling green hills covered in neatly-arranged tea plantations, like something straight out of a desktop wallpaper. We stopped for photos. We were surprised to find that, even crushed, the leaves smelled nothing at all like tea. Appacha, with teeth stained green and full of leaf bits, declared that it didn't taste like tea either.
Little did we know the roads were about to get so sketchy, it would still take us almost an hour to arrive at our final destination. Accounting for our rests at the waterfall and the lake, and the time we stopped for lunch, we were on the road for around 5 hours. We travelled less than 75 kilometres. It seems Google Maps doesn't take into account the time spent constantly dodging scooters, auto rickshaws, potholes and pedestrians, nor does it consider the conditions of the road or the taxi's suspension (both left a lot ot be desired!). The last hour was an exercise in endurance: I felt like I'd been through a few cycles in the washing machine.
But then finally, finally, we arrived at the Wild Trails Resort in Munnar. And it was beautiful. At the 1,600m elevation, the stifling humidity of the last few days melted away into cool, clean mountain air. We got settled in to our rooms, ordered hot drinks and sat on the balcony to decompress. Shebi Uncle stayed in an attached accommodation for the drivers.
We met with Ajith Uncle who had worked at the same company as Ajay over fifteen years ago. The two immediately connected with brotherly affection for one another. Ajith Uncle shared about his conversion experience which caused him to become a devout Hindu, and the new purpose he'd gained for the direction of his life. Previously an engineer, he was now a farmer, as well as the owner of the resort. He wanted to live a life that had a positive impact on the community and the environment, and was seeking to embed sustainable practices into his business. He spoke of the difficulties in dealing with many of the locals in the area, who seemed to only look after their own interests. But he didn't blame them. He shared: When you are living in poverty every day, it makes you think like that. It can take generations to change that mindset.
We ate a delicious dinner outdoors under hanging lights and greenery while the sound of running water trickled in the background. Afterwards Ajith Uncle showed us the rain dance area: a space down the hill where artificial branches formed an open dome from which water sprinkled, illuminated by colourful strobe lights. It had been created as a place where guests could let loose and release any stress they'd brought with them from the city. When we arrived, the staff member changed the music from a traditional song to Gangnam Style. It was getting late but we decided to come back for a boogey the next night. Then Ajith showed us the remains of the tree which an elephant had pulled up from the roots in October last year. They had cut down and removed the tree trunk, but the stump and root system which the elephant had dislodged remained; it was around 2 metres across! With that unsettling news, I took my first hot shower since leaving Brisbane and fell asleep in a nice soft bed, praying that I wouldn't dream about elephant attacks.
Sunday 8th December
In the morning Abhi and I ordered drinks to our room, then sipped them on the balcony while gazing at the view. I savoured my hot chocolate for the familiarity as well as the rich taste. The WiFi connection wasn't strong enough to listen to our home church's service online, so we found one on Spotify instead. The view stretched over a lush green valley, with other resorts perched on the other side.
After breafast we travelled to the tea museum and saw a short film about the development of the tea plantations. It started with experimentation with various crops by the British in the 1800s, with tea performing the best due to the high elevation and particular slope angles of the hills. They expanded their operations, providing the locals with seemingly favourable employment conditions, until the British rule in India came to an end and the Indian government created new laws regarding the percentage of Indian ownership required over local businesses. Today there are over 50 tea estates in and around Munnar, covering an area of 30 square kilometres. The scale of the plantations was truly mind-blowing. New hills emerged around every corner and stretched into the distance, covered in leafy tea bushes like and enormous green patterned rug.
We learned how one single tea plant can produce many different types of teas, simply by taking the leaves through different processes. They showed us a demonstration of the various machines for rolling, crushing, tearing, cutting, dehydration, drying and filtering the leaves. Bindu took a special interest in an aerating machine which blew air to keep the leaves suspended, which she helped to develop when she worked as a mechanical engineer in Baroda.
After that we made the compulsory visit to the gift shop, between us filling a basket with various kinds of tea leaves. We also purchased some ready-made tea, choosing between cardamom, ginger, lemongrass, masala, cinnamon, green and rose.
Next we had to find a place for lunch. There were plenty of restaurants around, but they varied in quality, and finding one with good food hygeine required good observational skills and a bit of guesswork. We entered one which seemed to be the best in the area, but still made us feel uneasy. We found a table and were preparing to order only their most popular dishes, which would be unlikely to be left sitting unrefrigerated for long. But when the manager informed us that they'd run out of food for lunch, we took is as potentially a blessing from the LORD and instead drove to the restaurant where we'd eaten yesterday.
Next we rode to the elephant rides. I was apprehensive from the start, but eager not to let my fear turn into regret over a missed opportunity later on. The elephants placidly followed their handlers around in a fenced-off circuit, between two and four people seated on each one. They were bigger than I expected, but Abhi said they were likely juveniles and hadn't yet reached their full size.
When they called our ticket number we climbed the platform and then onto the elephant's nack, atop a kind of saddle with handles for stability and rests for our feet. I felt sorry for the elephant to have to carry Abhi, Viv and myself all at once. When it walked, we felt every step, every rocking motion, even the tensing of its back muscles under our legs through the foam seat. At one point it stopped and huffed, and the handler whipped its leg. I could only think about how tall we were, and how the elephant might get spooked if I panicked. I couldn't stop shaking for the whole ride. Again Abhi was a great comfort. What a blessing to have a best friend who is strong where you are weak - I am so thankful for him. Even so, I was extremely relieved when it was over. I hugged Abhi and thanked the LORD and hoped the photos were worth it.
Back at the resort, we spent some time chilling in our room, then had a quiet dinner followed by another blissful shower and went to sleep. Long drives along potholed roads, shared with other users who have an extremely high risk tolerance, makes for a special kind of exhaustion. All I wanted was to lie horizontal and experience the kind of serenity that comes from not having my brain vibrated around in my skull - there was no rain dance boogeying that night.
Monday 9th December
Today was my favourite morning so far. We awoke to the sound of birds calling just outside our room, almost like the laugh of a kookaburra. When I pulled back the curtain, I was shocked to see a pair of large brown birds with oversized beaks sitting on our balcony railing. I hadn't seen anything like them before. I later learned that they were hornbills, a variety specific to the Munnar region.
Abhi and I went for a walk to experience the tea plantations at a slower, less bone-rattling pace. The view was spectacular; dense forest stretched far into the distance. We returned for a delicious buffet breakfast with the family, then played fooseball together. Appacha and Ammachi had never played before but they loved it, and Appacha's competitiveness was infectious. Then we left Ajay with Ajith Uncle, bible open on the table and deep in conversation, and retraced our steps on another slower walk with the rest of the family.
Appacha and Ammachi continue to impress me. They managed well with the steep incline, holding conversation as we walked. They had never complained through the stressful travel, busy schedule and high humidity, always prioritising our needs ahead of their own. They were made of tough stuff.
While we walked Ammachi told me how she and two others had become the first women accepted into their university to study mechanical engineering. They had to justify why they should be allowed to take three positions which could have instead been offered to men. That's where she met Appacha, and they decided they wanted to be married. Once he'd secured a job, Appacha wrote a letter to her father requesting that he would allow them to be married. They called it an arranged-love marriage. But there wasn't much work available, and after the wedding Ammachi had to move to another city to get a job, until a year and a half later when her manager arranged a transfer to Baroda so they could be together again. She worked in telecommunications, and as a government emplyee was supposed to move every three years, but by God's grace her work was highly valued, and they kept her there for the next 35 years until she retired.
We returned to the resort and packed our things to go. Gathering at the exit, Ajay prayed with Ajith Uncle for his safety and his business, and they said an emotional farewell. We got in the taxi and made our way back to Vengoor. Before the day was over, we squeezed in a visit to Mercy Aunty and her husband, who had cared for Appacha and Ammachi during their university days. Mercy Aunty was also the cousin of Appacha's Appacha, but were told the distance of their family bond was irrelevant. Her husband, Johnny Uncle, had had a fall recently, and he was a bit frail and hard of hearing. We followed the usual routine of cake, tea and conversation in Malayalam, but they were lovely and asked about us through Ajay and Bindu, our resident interpreters. Overall it was a beautiful, hectic, unique and fun weekend, and we were thankful for the experience.
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