Acarolling in Kerala we go!

Kerala is the southwestern-most state on the subcontinent. It's local language is Malayalam which means "thank goodness for Tamil Nadu and the Bay of Bengal or we'd all be Malayans, or worse, Burmese". It's the closest to the Equator that Leigh or Deb had ever been. Of course, this is glaringly apparent as these two very blond, very pale-skinned women stepped off the plane onto the tarmac at the Cochin airport. The airport is 40 kilometers from Cochin, but the biggest city in the state gets to claim ownership of this one-runway "international" airport. However, as we experienced later, they were not alone. Kerala is a European magnet much like Goa. I took no pictures because Speedos on old guys on the beach or on the deck of a houseboat is just so wrong, but they were there as well. Buuuuuutttttt, I digress, again.
At the airport, we were met by our driver, Vinayan, pronounced Vinoo, who was a Kerala backwater kid who came to the big city and has been driving ever since. His English was OK, but he had a great sense of humor and, as we've learned from our previous driver experiences, is well-known by retailers, tourism guides, and vendors in the touristy areas of Kerala. We drove straight away out to the backwater area beginning with a typical two-lane road which seemed much like the drives we had experienced before outside Chennai or Bangalore or Delhi. But within an hour, we turned off the highway and started up winding roads lined on both sides by rubber tree plantations. One of the first things you notice is the number of Christian churches, but Duh, The Portuguese were the first western traders here and they brought along the shock troops of the Catholic church: the Jesuits. But you also see a great number of Hindu temples as well as a smattering of mosques. but was is really interesting about the number of religious institutions is that Kerala is and has been a communist-controlled government for decades. So much for godless commies! But enough politics! Off we go into the mountains. The state is dotted with small villages which we drove through maybe a gazillion on our way to Theddakay. We passed through one that was starting a festival with a drumming group. We were climbing up on a fairly steep grade when we started to get into the switchbacks which were quite exciting because the roads narrowed enough that the hundreds of buses we passed needed the entire road to make each of the switchbacks. This wasn't a real problem -- until after nearly five hours drive, it started to get dark -- and rain -- but the traffic did not subside. The back roads traffic seemed like something you would expect in Hyderabad -- passing, beeping horns, speeding up only to hit a switchback and find an on-coming bus. Well, Deb and a a>Leigh, both in the back seat, were car sick from the many twists and turns. I was unable to stand up straight from tensing all my muscles during the drive as if I came off the wildest roller coaster at Six Flags Over the Wagah border crossing during the daily flag lowering ceremony. We reached Spice Village about 8pm. We had some dinner and went to bed. And reliving it has exhausted me, so I'm gonna call it a night.

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