almost immediately after arriving in alleppey, after only a brief rest and a quick meal, we hopped on another bus a bit further down the coast to see the krishnapuram palace museum. located down some random dirt roads off of the highway was this beautiful serene building made of wood, two stories tall, organized around four courtyards, with a red tiled roof and some gardens situated about it. i am not sure whose palace it was back in the day, but now it is uninhabited, rather haphazardly turned into a museum. so the attractive interior, that i would have liked to look at just by itself, thronged with naga statues, swords, some strange geological models of something or other... there were tho some interesting samples of murals taken from various temples in the area, as well as some originals to the house itself still visible on the walls, including one huge one of ganesh, vivid and fresh and full of color and action. the house itself tho was the best part, so light and airy and simple in line and open, totally reminding me of japanese architecture. the wood it was all constructed out of was rich and dark and lovely.
the visit was somewhat marred by the presence of two indian guys who attached themselves to our tour mostly it seemed to get more ample opportunities to stare at us. but other than this it was all good, and definitely worthwhile to get a sense of keralan architecture which can get a little muddled in all the throwing together of traditional methods and newer ones, which is i guess maybe just a reflection of the use of just whatever is at hand whether it be mud wood cement or corrugated iron.
after this we got ourselves back to alleppey again by local bus and set out to walk a little along the canals toward the sea, hoping to get a chance to see some old buildings, take in the peaceful calm of that part of town. all these old warehouses etc from back when alleppey was an important port, elegant and simple and intact. if only somehow there were the resources to restore all of these and turn it into a heritage area, it could be such a worthwhile project. but as it was most of the area seemed deserted and out-of-use and irrelevant to the main action, which took place back in the mess of downtown near the bus station in the typical crush of commercial enterprises that you see in any indian city/town.
we struck the sea around time for sunset, sat breathing in the salty air and watched the sky changing, all the people on the beach flying kites, talking, eating, and one gang of youths playing soccer with one very small blond child. soon the crowds began to disperse and so we left also, stopping to sit and sip some drinks at the raheem residency, a lavish heritage hotel right on the beach, since we couldn’t afford the meals but still wanted a look into the interior. and did some foreigner watching, a few groups of which straggled in looking not so classy and really kinda trashy in the context of this fancy schmancy hotel. especially memorable was a group of three french folk who wandered in in disarray, barefoot, in fact, with the one woman among them wearing only a short kameez whose hem grazed her mid-thigh, nothing to be seen underneath but the bareness of her legs! this was quite a shock. only a little later we left, averting our eyes and sighing, what must they think of us?
the following day was our trip into the backwaters, in its most economic form that didn’t involve being on a motorized ferry full of thirty, forty people. just us two, two boatmen, and a canoe, a canopy sheltering us two who sat in the middle lounging for five hours as these two men labored away with their oars. we could almost immediately see the appeal of the backwaters especially to the tourist types. because aside from the beauty of all the various passages of water and our quiet engine-less movement thru them, there was also the life of the people playing out on the banks to watch:
a crowd of chickens running round a lady on stone steps at the water’s edge washing her metal pots, men squatted by the water grimly brushing teeth or rubbing soap into bare chests, folks fishing, ladies slapping dirt out of clothing against the stone of the steps, a marriage in progress at some newly-erected pavilion, the smoke and smell of puja with its attendant crowd of people and raspy music at a canal-side mandir, men up the trees to gather down the coconuts for toddy, men floating down parallel to us selling fish from nearer to the beach, a shady (aka sketchy) canal-side corrugated iron liquor shop decked with communist posters selling coconut beer (toddy) fresh and lovely despite the number of lungi-clad men staring at the funny foreigners, a baby screaming while mommy washes it, a glimpse of rice paddies over the banks, laundry out to hang, rare birds in air and in water, leaves floating, houses and huts built down to the very edge of the water, pink water lilies poking upwards, low hanging trees casting shade and shadow onto the water, baby canals splitting off here and there in every direction, ancient-looking canoes moored to the shore, rusty red tin, hung tarpaulin and tiled roofs, chickens running along the shore, ducks waddling along behind them, the regular noise of oars dipping into the water, the quiet of an early sunday morning...
all the small rituals of daily life played out against a super-scenic and stage-like backdrop. only occasionally interrupted by the roar of the motorboat. i can only imagine the excitement for someone fresh to the scene, to be able to observe from such a close vantage point at such a leisurely pace these kind of typical village scenes. and in such cool and quiet (at least for us under the canopy)... left both me and schmabil hungering for a week floating about on a houseboat. i suppose tho that can wait for wealthier times...
the next day we left early, by crowded bus, for our final stop (and at that a repeat one), kochi.
