My muse is a fiesty turkish midget by the name of Vildan. She has a high-pitched voice. Nothing moves me to action like one of her shrill diatribes. She generally berates me in some obscure turkish dialect and while I don't understand a word she says, the body language is unmistakeable. She had a big wart on her nose with several black hairs growing out. It got infected. She went back home to get it removed. She's back now, sassier than ever. I had forgotten how shrill her voice is.
I do want to finish sharing my Kerala experience. Especially now that I can spell it. The place that held a special magnetism for me was a particular hilltop. It wasn't a very high hill but did dominate the local landscape; there was a Hindu temple perched very near the apex. I was not allowed in the temple as I am not Hindu. More on this particular detail later. As you walked around the outskirts of the temple there were well worn paths; as you walked those paths you got nearly a 360 view of the surrounding countryside.
The North and Eastern faces were steep. The South and Western faces were more gradual. The approach to the hill was from the southwest. Many people lived along the winding roads interspersed with small shops, fields, palm trees and outbuildings. The fields were dotted with cattle and farm implements. Basic and simple implements, nothing very fancy. According the Mr. Shanmogun, my host, the southwestern slope of this hill is a good place for a house in a coastal region where the monsoons deliver serious rain. I suppose it's related to managed runoff.
Mr. Shanmogan's friend, Mr. Ayyappal lived on those slopes leading to the hilltop. On our way up, we stopped and picked up Mr Ayyappal and his young son, Kesavadas. We went before first light. The notion was to photograph the sunrise. The sunrise on the morning we visited the hilltop wasn't as dramatic as I am sure they are at times. Nonetheless we made the best of it and I got some pics that I think captured the morning. It is so humid in that part of the world. The early morning temperature inversion captures a heavy mist that hangs over the countryside like a large mosquito net.
Part of the charm was observing Shanmogan and Ayyappal's friendship. They had been school mates. While Kesavadas, Manjunath and I were off taking pics, Shanmogan and Ayyappal wandered the hillside bending each other's ears. It turned out that young Kesavadas was somewhat of an amatuer photog himself and took some good pix with my gear. Some of them were of me and most I have used in my facebook account.
A river ran around the northern face of the hill and fed into the Arabian sea, In eartlier posts I have some pix of the mouth and this hilltop. There were barges or rather large canoes, dredging the river bottom. According to Kesavadas they were dredging for sand used in cement construction. He claimed the activity was not legal but sanctioned through a series of bribes. The older men later explained that was true in principal but there were areas where it was legal and they were pretty sure that was one of them.
On the way back we stopped at a local "hotel" for breakfast. Breakfast consisted of a large crispy tortilla but not really a tortilla; thinner, more delicate and not made of corn; made of rice. Along with that came a tubular item made of rice and coconut; bland and filling. It crumbled easily and was usually mixed with a sambal (thick, spicy curry soup). Not this morning, we ate just the tube and tortilla, all accompanied by sweet tea mixed with milk. I figured out later that my host likely saw to it that we passed on the Sambal for fear it would make me sick.
As I look back, I think the charm was a mixture of things. It is my personal belied that our lives are not usually influenced by a single event but rather a combination of several all sharing some common theme. The energy of Shanmogan and Ayyappal's long standing friendship, the youthful confidence and enthusiam Kesavadas brought to the excursion and the very loyal attention that Manjunath showed to me. All of this in the shadow of a Hindu temple conspired to generate a warm and positive experience.
l to r: Manjunath (Shanmogan's loyal driver), Kesaveda (Ayyappa's son), Shanmogan, Ayyappa, yours truely.
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