India

Fort Cochin is a place which understands tourism and is thriving off it. Aside from the fishermen, working their sail-like chinese fishing nets, Indian daily life is scarce. The wide clean dirt streets are lined with resort style hotels; pristine open air restaurants serving international cuisine; Ayervedic massage clinics; air conditioned internet cafes; and theatres specializing in choreographed costumed "traditional" performance tailored to please rows of attentive fascinated tourists.

India if you want to pamper us, we are lying oiled up and sliding around like seals on ice, beneath the firm hands of your butt slapping Ayervedic massage women. If you want to entertain us, we are eyes-popping, camera-clicking and hands-clapping the applause of your professional artists.
And if you want to nourish us, we are dining beside middle aged couples appreciating the live classical music provided as a background accompaniment and carefully savouring the explosion of flavours off white plates and clean silverware.
We are doing all of this as though we are not wearing clothes that are sweat-stained and dirt-dusted and that our heals are not cracked and patched up with muddied mortar. It is a far cry across a narrow bay from the India we have gotten to know and develop our love hate relationship of turbulant interactions with.
We visited the shore at sunset to watch the action of the men pulling up their chinese net from the water to retrieve their catch. We were given the opportunity to take part, yanking at the ropes with all our body weight like ringing an ancient church bell. When it came up empty, one man explained it was the off season - they were there for our photos, hence a small donation please. We nearly forgot where we were!


Our slow hot strolls, relaxed approached to touts and easy dining experiences lulled us into a forgetful state of joy.