Object Number 4: the dhobi

The dhobi is an essential to any trip to India. If you do not want to carry around a festering bag of sweaty washing, if your hotel is not the kind of place where you can hang your underwear out of the window or across the balcony, the dhobi is the answer.
Every small bank where water can be accesses is home to a variety of washing operations which vary in scale and scope, but all result in washing being hung across makeshift lines or bushes. Some rivers display kilometres of fabric bleaching in the sun and most hotels, where the washing machine has not yet become standard and the electricity is flaky, have their favoured dhobi. It is a great pleasure to receive a package of clean laundry meticulously ironed and carefully stacked.
Not so pleasant is the package which has been bashed to death on a stone without regard for the delicacy of the fabrics and packed whilst damp, so that all the colours have run. The occasional mud splodge and stray leaf reveal the location of the particular washing hole.
That the dhobi has been under threat for a long time is spelt out in this article from 2003, written by Tanya Abraham, who is working to keep the history of Cochin alive.
http://www.thehindu.com/thehindu/mp/2003/07/07/stories/2003070700750100.htm
There is still a dhobi in the town and there are many pictures of it online.
I am sure that the modern dhobi does little for the health of the rivers as soap is often used. It probably comes under the heading of customs which will soon disappear as much needed sanitation and water supply come to India, but I can't help hoping shamefully that some of the picturesque will survive..

The laundry cart, Thekkady

The dhobi inside the wildlife reserve, Periyar

Update, 2015

The reason there are so many pictures of the dhobi khana in Cochin online is that it has reinvented itself as a tourist facility. Right on, Fort Cochi!

The Indian Visa Problem

We are planning what will probably be our last visit to India. We say that every time, but this year some nervous friends have persuaded us to take them to South India before they go off on their own to the North and we go on to Sri Lanka, a place I have never visited. When we have taken people to Kerala in the past we have loved showing them the places we have been to and giving them a taste of the experiences we have loved.
Everything is planned and mostly paid for, but then comes the detail, inoculations, airport car parks and The Visa.
Getting an Indian visa has always been a test of determination. When we fist went, James was doomed to queuing outside India House in the Aldwych at 5.30 in the morning to get a ticket to tell him if we would be able to have the visa that day. He would them spend hours sitting in various queues by the infamous "do not ask questions here" window. Once he did not manage to get a ticket and had to stay in a cheap hotel and try again the next day. He often did this for clients as well.
At long last the electronic application process arrived and for a couple of years it got easier, a form filled in online and then a trip to Victoria before the courier returned tha passports a few days later.
Then the complications began again. Last year he had to go to the far end of the Goswell road, but that was OK until they refused our photographs.
Indian visa photographs are not as other photographs for passports etc. in that they are square. The eyes have to be positioned exactly and there are other specifications which might make sense in a parallel universe. This time we think they did not like the paper the photos were printed on and James had a panic-stricken time getting a photographic shop to scan and reprint the pictures until they passed inspection.
Seeing that this year the office had moved to Uxbridge, James vowed that we would not go through the whole sorry busness again and that we would use a visa agency. This we are doing.
That brings the cost of our two visas up to over £250.
My conclusion is that a visit to India is not to be undertaken as lightly as we have tended to do. A six-month visa used to only allow re-entry at two month intervals, a problem if you had flights which went through India after a visit elsewhere. This was on the grounds of security after the Mumbai attacks. I think that this may be changed, but there is no chance of the new "visa on arrival" system which is being introduced for some nationalities being extended to the UK. At least not as long aswe make it so difficult for Indian nationals to travel here.

Object number 3, the houseboat.

Houseboats parked at Alleppey

Houseboat on Lake Vembanad

The houseboats which potter around the lakes and canals of the backwaters represent so much of what is good and bad about the tourist push in Kerala.
The kettuvallums, the traditional boats of all sizes, are living history. No-one knows how long they have been constructed using very ancient techniques, out of Anjuli wood and coir, both abundant around the area.
In the Malayalam language "kettu" means tying and “vallam” means country boat – the two together make the local name "kettuvallam”. Those tourists lucky enough to have a trip on a genuine kettuvallum will be treated to a close-up view of the complicated tying and weaving of the coir ropes which hold the whole thing together, and the intricately woven palm-thatched superstructure. The standard kettuvallam is about 20 metres long and 4 metres wide. They are still built using traditional construction methods and mainly from local materials, bamboo poles, coconut fibre and "Anjili" (Artocarpus hirsuta) wood. The hull is a series of wooden planks, long cut and carved and tied together using coir, with coconut fibres stuffed in between. There are no nails used in the hull, and it is easy to see how the planks are tied. This framework is then coated with a caustic black resin extracted from boiled cashew kernels. Modern boats have diesel engines and a rudder and are steered using a wheel at the front. Some maintain the use of bamboo poles to punt along.

A meal on the boat

The distinctive kettuvallams have been used to transport rice and spices through the canals and waterways of Kerala for many years. They could be as much as 100 feet long and carry up to 30 tons. Today the boats are only used to carry visitors around the backwaters, their stately pace being the ideal counterpoint to the bustle onshore. From being an outmoded and dying form of transport, the kettuvallam has taken on a new lease of life and the boatyards are busy building and maintaining today’s fleet. The superstructure is made from woven bamboo, and needs to be renewed every three or four years.Inside, the boats now have every modern convenience including air-conditioning, en-suite bathrooms and well-equipped kitchens.

New boats use modern construction techniques and are metal-hulled and riveted together. They are usually lumbering monsters, lacking the grace of the traditional boats. Some have eight cabins and a jacuzzi on the roof. I just don't get it!

The driver

The source of a lot of tourist dollars, the fleet of boats working out of Alleppey has grown and grown, and with little regulation the boats are adding to the already serious pollution of the lakes and waterways. Most of the beauty of the backwaters lies along its narrow canals, which thread their way through the rice fields, lined with small houses and providing the arteries through which the commerce of the area flows. The large boats with all mod. cons cannot tackle these waterways, so lumber their way round the lake, a constant procession of primitive arks. There is much to see on the lake, but those in the know insist on a small boat and a more difficult voyage into the depths of the backwaters.