In a fury of packing and giddiness we left Calicut. Onward and upward, up to the mountains, spiralling and winding up towards Waynard Wildlife Sanctuary. Passing small busy Indian towns along the way. Piloted by a young Indian James Dean, our tourist taxi ripped and tore the roads for a couple thousand feet. He drove like a sixteen year-old in a Ferrari, trying to impress his older friends, high on speed. He actually pulled the classic horror move: Tiny two-lane road winding up a mountain, he decides to pass a truck that’s already passing a bus. Three vehicles thick are we’re all facing a blind corner. But don’t worry, every one was honking.

I’ve got to stop hoping for some pristine jungle paradise. There’s no escaping the air, you see, pollution rises. The morning mist is laced and any far-off view was corrupted.

The young Indian James Dean unexpectedly stopped at a view point for us to take a picture. Putting his foot up on the short rock wall he leaned on his knee looking out proudly like a farmer looks out over his fields. He was either blind or the heavy smog or its significance was lost on him.

This entire India experience has left me with a strong feeling of connection. I can relate so closely to many things about this place, they just need a little translation. Though this is not my country, I feel it is my planet. I know that the sound of trees in the wind, the ocean waves, a cool breeze and the dappling of shade and afternoon sunlight has the same effect on all people.

I can see that what happens here matters to us. There are no borders when it comes to pollution and ignorance. Ignoring this now will bite us in the butt later. There are 1 billion people here. 1 billion, and all the air and oceans are connected.

Escaping from the big city we situated ourselves in one of the many small bustling towns near Waynard Wildlife Sanctuary, which was almost as loud and busy in its main street. Just when we had accepted our fate of loud towns and sore lungs, our shallow breathing began to deepen as the smog cleared and we were treated to some very clear days and finally started to feel like the nature paradise that we were seeking. We took day trips into the park. Our only option on day 1 was a jeep tour, having somewhat recovered from the serious jostling we received the day before we headed out. With a good driver and ranger hanging out the back window. Our first wildlife encounter were 3 huge tusked elephants tied to trees, perhaps this wasn’t the type nature reserve we had expected. The driver sensing our sadness pushed on slowly into the park, after some amazing termite hills and clear signs of elephants, there they were… wild elephants, walking amongst the trees, well and free. Lisa cried.















The next day we haphazardly were able to arrange a 14km day trek. We bought some food for ourselves and our guide and headed into to forest and grasslands of Waynard. We walked briskly up hill for half a day, our guide armed with flip-flops could have left us in the dust, he eventually persuaded us that he should carry our day pack. We saw 3 different types of monkeys, blond, black and a rare red monkey.


We stopped for lunch on some large rocks. After eating some deathly spicy curry, he started making us climb through, over and under the large boulders. There was no explanation as to why since there was no common language between us. Eventually Lisa communicated that she would go no further for fear of heights and claustrophobia. I descended into a dark hole with this kind and quiet man, climbing over fissures and lifting ourselves over boulders in the dark. He helped me with a flashlight, presumably words of encouragement, mimicking rock climbing techniques and the occasional poke in the bum. He was so purposeful in our decent and I was beginning to wish I knew what that purpose was.
The result was even better because I didn’t know it what was coming. We started to hear the squeaks and shrieks of bats. Oh my God! We had precariously descended into a bat cave! There were thousands of them, and they were big. All a flurry with activity as I looked up they showered me with their guano (bat poo). Inside the cave, for fear of falling and exhaustion I actually had to give a firm ‘no’to the final rock he wanted me to climb over. Shaking with excitement and adrenaline I was happy to be where is was.
We rejoined Lisa and happily descended the second half of the day, in the heat of the sun we were over exposed and relieved for the intermittent oasis of trees and rivers.
Burnt, tired and satisfied we had found what we had sought, the natural history of India, intact and protected in a small pocket of earth.









Down from the park that evening, back to our hotel, we enjoyed our first pubic bus ride, with separate sections for women and men. Commroding with the women at the front is always a good time.

The next day we descended into Kannur, again by car, as the mountain roads were too periless for bikes. There the and spent some hours at the train station arranging a train to Karwar, past Mangalore. We decided to skip Mangalore which in recent days has seen some scary events aimed at non-traditional women. Further, certain groups promised to deal aggressively towards couples celebrating Valentines day, so we decided to take our love and liberty elsewhere. One particularly non-progressive news heading went something like: ‘drinking in pubs leads to rape, violence, alcoholism and mental-illness’ after the event where said group beat the men and assaulted the women in a Mangalore bar. Hum. A clear case of creating ones own reality.
‘For this train ride we opted for the A/C class train car, but this one was surprisingly more infested with multi-generations of cockroach. I was able to nap, Lisa choose to watch over me. We arrived at 9pm and cycled into town in the dark, in search of a hotel. After asking around and visiting every probable hole-in-the-wall we found one that had space and looked OK and we were promised there were no cockroaches.
Being mosquito free we slept without bug nets. You can surely guess what happened next. I awoke with a humdinger of a cockroach on my foot and pillow. It was 5am. So we packed up to leave. We took the beast in a glass to the front desk to aid in our argument for a discount at this overpriced haven of dirt. With no success we released the culprit on the desk hoping for some reaction, and cycled off into the night. Avoiding the silhouettes of cows on the road we made Goa, the tourist province, by 9am.
Cheap beach destinations can attract interesting characters of people. From arrogant jerks that think they are better than everyone to the earnest health seeker here to spend time practicing yoga, cleansing and going to ashrams. We enjoyed one amazing conversation with an ex-crew member from the Mont python series. He was full of astonishing anecdotes of John Cleese and co. This is were he is spending most of his retirement.
We spent 3 loud restless nights in a beach hut surrounded by European party seekers. This was no longer India. One 18 year-old in the body of a 47 year old man was our neighbour. By the time we left, Lisa was embarrassed to say he was from her home town Aberdeen, Scotland. It was however, good for a piss-up after months of dry travelling, even if it did involve discussing the joys of watching tele and scratching ones balls.

V-day on the beach, the perfect picnic:
(Valentine’s day in Palolem)

We cycled on to the next beach, Agonda. We knew it would be perfect because all of the partiers in Palolem said Agonda was boring. Here we stayed for a week in a beach hut to swim, take short bike rides into town and hang out in the hammock. This beach is undeveloped enough to support a few sea turtle nests. A night watchmen sleeps beside them in a hut to guard this endangered animal, while we slept one night about 140 eggs hatched out of one. The watchmen helped them to sea in baskets and away from the confusing lights of the restaurants and small resorts.

It was the perfect end to an amazing time in India.



So that’s it soon we head back to the deliriously amazing city of Mumbai. We’ve done a good amount of cycling and a lot of exploring. We’ve met some cyclists who were undaunted by the traffic and many people who thought we were insane to even try. It takes all kinds!

We will miss India, it was too short, we’ve only scratched the surface.

Next to Vietnam!


Some great extras:













































\

Lesson 21 from India: Things are not always as they appear.

Our last night in Fort Cochin they treated us to dinner and authentic toddy (fermented coconut) YUM. Over dinner they shared the real story about Pinky, the 13 year old cousin that works for them and sleeps in the kitchen. Contextually the rest of the family sleeps in the living room. This was a little less of a Cinderella story than we had thought. She is from a very poor family in the North. Her last job was working in a hotel from 6am-12am, in the middle of the day she went to school. With no care from her parents or brothers she lived in rags and her destiny was ultimately to be sold off into marriage at a very early age. Working with the homestay family she’s far better off. She is paid well, has nice clothes, some freedom and can save for her dowry. In this progressive province she won’t marry until after the age of 21. Her boss cares for her but is strict to keep her from taking advantage which, apparently she has done before. Such a shy smile. She won’t even accept a chocolate bar unless you put it in her hand. Her sister will be joining her soon to work at the homestay. This family has rescued her. Still she will never be their equals, have the same love, privileges, or the freedom to just be a child. At 13 she must care for the 6 and 9 year old.

Cheesy angst poem:

Pinky Pinky makes excellent chapathy.
She washes my clothes,
but drinks no toddy.

Thirteen, thirteen, do you get a hug,
In between dishes and cleaning the rug?

I want to walk and tell you its fine
And give you the freedoms of my women-kind.

Would you believe me if I said I am not better than you?

I’m glad your sister is coming.

We left for the road at 6am, the kids and Lisa cried as we said goodbye. As always she has made an impression with her genuine love and affection for children. We will keep in touch with them.

We made it to Cherai Beach but Lisa was taken down with another heinous cold. After a restless night sleeping with little biting red ants we ditched that town and enjoyed a hair raising ride to Guruvayur. This is a hopping temple town with few foreign tourists so we stayed at a very swanky hotel for $16 until she got better. The staff were so amused by their foreign guests that we received phone calls starting at 8am to see if we needed anything. Lisa had tickled the fancy of the hotel receptionist so much that she came up to the room to take a picture of Lisa and touch her face. Then there were the two yes, two curious bell boys who came to the room to deliver, what must have been a very heavy roll of toilet paper. hahaha

This was an amazing place. We enjoyed authentic South India Thalis (traditional lunch) all served on a banana leaf, and eaten by hand. Yum!



There is a huge Hindu temple where they keep elephants for grand religious celebrations. If you want that your son gets a very good job you are welcome to donate large sums of gold so your prayers may be heard. Or, you may also wish to donate an elephant. They are sadly taken from the wild from their mothers and trained from a young age. Wild adults would not tolerate chains. Occasionally an elephant will lose its wits and go nuts. For such intelligent, social and magnificent beasts, their true home is in the wild. I know, I know, the context of millennia of tradition is not lost on me but still, too much context can cloud and issue like a thick smog clouds the lungs.

Lesson 22: Sometimes things are exactly as they appear.










On Sunday the town exploded with weddings. There was so many beautiful people and things to see here. Music around the temple at night, dancing, groups of pilgrams. We said wow a hundred times a day.






Now for the most endearing things in India:

Endless, endless, endless, endless, amounts of character.
Amazing birds with elaborate calls.
The food.
Street stalls.
Cool insects.
A city of lights on the ocean from small fishing boats, all night long.
Shiny sweets, shiny women, shiny shrines.
Chai chai and more chai.
The morning chorus breaking through the ubiquitous crows.
Magnum PI moustaches.
Night-time bat watching. Small bats…HUGE bats.
Men holding hands in friendship.
Turquoise ocean.
Big huge smiles
Being giggled at.
Unabashed starring.
The kindness of the people.
Their easy going attitude, nothing is a problem, even the traffic doesn’t stress them out!
Learning to eat with our hands.
Learning to use water instead of TP.
Longis (south indian clothing worn by men)






























Moments we could have done without:

Fresh dead dogs on the road in the morning.
Rotting dead dogs on the road in the afternoon.
The morning chorus of horking.
Being laughed at.
A huge dead bat electrocuted on the wires.
People who take a dump directly into the ocean.
People who litter directly into the ocean.
Explaining why Lisa’s hair is short, and yes, she is female.
Not holding hands in public.
Sharks being served at tourist restaurants. (endangered)

Most gagable moment:
Going to the post office, the man behind the counter does a farmers nose blow on the floor of the office, turns back to serve the gagging Lisa who swifty leaves the office asking Michelle to complete the transaction.

As soon as Lisa was well enough we moved on from Guruvayur. From there we’ve cycled over 100kms on a mostly rural ride, hitting the town of Thirur for one stinky night, then on to Calicut, a busy, relentlessly honking, smoggy city. The vibe has changed somewhat from the chill religious tones of Guruvayur and further south. Our presence through this stretch has been met with more flabbergasted jaw-dropping intrusive stares rather then the mostly kindly curious looks we’ve been used to so far. There are still very few foreigners here. Lisa did have to give one man a loud talk down and a hard whack on the shoulder for being inappropriate towards her. No, not all western women are like that.

And finally it was my turn to get sick. Giving into the temptation of butter chicken, I’ve learned my lesson too stay away from meat in India. After 4 days of sickness, we were happy for the satellite TV in the room, and we’ll be happy to get out of here.

Tomorrow we leave by car for Wayanard Wildlife Sanctuary (too far to cycle with no stops) in search of breathable air and wild elephants, the only kind we’ll give money to see.

If you've liked the photos so far, most of them are Lisa's doing!

Thanks for writing everyone!

Hi-tailing it,
Michelle and Lisa

(P.S. Tracy, yes we should have brought that extra tool, I broke a spoke on my back wheel! ha ha...we'll find someone to fix it, do you fancy flying out?)