Tremor in Asian Seas

On Christmas day we took a walk south of the lighthouse to the small fishing village named Vizhinjam. The villagers are mainly poor fisherfolk that depend on the sea to eek out their meager living. They live in plain huts made from woven palm fronds that sit at the waters edge. The Christmas celebration was in full swing on the southern side of the bay. Teenagers blasted music from large speakers, boys played soccer on the beach, and women greeting us with big smiles. They were relaxed and happy, enjoying the fine weather and the holiday celebration. The following day, however, the celebration turned to terror when wave after wave hit the shore, pulling everything in its' path out into the sea. The village was destroyed in a matter of minutes.

At the same time this tiny fishing village was being torn apart, we sat unaware of the danger high up on the second floor of the German Bakery on Kovalam Beach, a mere 2 to 3 kilometers north of Vizhinjam. We watched as people settled in for a day at the beach, renting chaise lounges and parasols on the shore, eating fresh fruit salad, or riding waves in the morning surf. Suddenly, we saw the waves stretch unusually far toward shore, surprising the people lounging on the beach when waves reached their blankets and scattered their sandals in the receding water. Still, the waves were never tall; instead they just kept coming farther and farther up the beach. The view was almost comical, and we found ourselves laughing as people chased down their sandals and bags before they lost them to the sea.

We kept watching the waves as we ate breakfast. The tide came up awfully close to the row of establishments along the beach, and then receded about 50 meters back after a few minutes. As this cycle continued, we discussed what might be causing the strange behavior, perhaps the full moon, or, I suggested, perhaps an earthquake. We had no idea how accurate this statement would turn out to be.

The strange phenomenon continued all morning long. The lifeguards kept watch, but didn't seem alarmed. People continued to enjoy sun bathing on the shore and swimming in the clear blue waters. In fact, the sea seemed even calmer than the day before, so Lyn decided to take a morning swim. She swam for 20 minutes, and while the current was strong, it didn't seem as strong as on the first few days after we arrived. Still, she was cautious of the oceans immense power and came out to rest on shore. As the waves had receded she choose a spot high on the beach to lay her sarong. She sat down and became engrossed in her book when suddenly the waves had advanced up the shore again, and she quickly scrambled to pick up her things before they were soaked. A cruel joke, she thought, as she and I had earlier sat watching and giggling as others had the same experience.

The locals are used to having high tides during the monsoon season, but even they said that this was something unusual at this time of year. Around 1pm, we went to lunch and choose a restaurant along the beachfront. Clearly something was wrong, as we saw fishermen running from the direction of the southern village as quickly as they could to check on their boats left on Kovalam. Several teams of men were hauling their boats to higher ground. The tides would wash far up the beach, and then recede even farther back into the sea. The distance between each tidemark to the next became increasing bigger. After eating we decided to walk north to the next beach, along the sidewalk lined with businesses. It was then that we overheard one shopkeeper say that there was an earthquake and that several people in Chenni had been killed. So, something major did happen, but we still didn't have any idea of what was going on with the ocean here. By this time, the lifeguards had pulled everyone from the water and were standing guard to keep people from entering it.

The first official news came when we caught sight of the BBC on TV where we heard that a giant tsunami hit the coast of Sri Lanka and Chennai. The first estimates were that 1,000 people were dead. It wasn't until several days later that we learned the full magnitude of the devastation. On December 26, the earth shook with an unbelievable amount of energy, 300 times more than that of quake in Kobe Japan, and aftershocks has been continuing ever since.

Miraculously there wasn't much damage on Kovalam Beach itself. We were concerned about our friends on Ko Lanta in Thailand (who, thankfully, have survived) and wondered how bad things were in Chennai, as we were considering ending our India adventure in that coastal city. As each day passes the number of victims and the scale of damage to Asian coastlines continues to multiply. We are constantly reminded of how incredibly lucky we are to be still here, and how rather odd it was that Kovalam was spared, while the beaches north and south were not.

We are currently staying in Kochi, north of Kovalam along the coast. This is an island town, connected to the mainland by a set of bridges. There was minor damage here as well. When we arrived on the 28th ferries were not operating and fishing boats did not dare to go out to sea.

Since we arrived, there have been some concerts and dance recitals organized to benefit the victims. The community seems ready to muster the enormous effort required to stage relief work, and many are taking matters into their own hands, collecting donations for basic necessities lost in the oceans fury. The most basic needs are for clothing, shoes, cookware and cooking stoves. We are hearing from locals that the government and religious organizations are slow to help because the donated money gets bogged down in endless politics. It's our hope that advanced nations will mobilize their relief efforts quickly and focus their attention on this humanitarian emergency. If you would like to help, please send money through a trusted organization like the Red Cross or other NGO's that you may be in contact with.

We continue to feel very lucky and blessed to have escaped this tragedy unscathed. Our hearts and prayers go out to all of those who lost friends and loved ones in this horrible disaster.

Tropical Christmas

"Where would you go for the holidays, Goa or Kerala?" We asked this question to many people in Ahmedabad. Their answers overwhelmingly pointed us to the state of Kerala, located on the southwestern side of the southern most tip of India. They described Kerala as being a tropical paradise that vibrates in hues of thick green vegetation and blue sky and sea.

Traders and sailors began visiting Kerala at least 3000 years ago, sailing the Arabian Sea in search of spices and ivory. In the 16th century, an era of European colonialism began, as Portuguese, Dutch and English fought for control of the spice trade. These influences resulted in a fascinating mix of Indian and European cultures that can still be seen throughout the state today. Keralas' climate, food and culture are totally different from the India we found in the north. Its attention to art and education make it one of the most progressive states in India.

Our first stop in Kerala was the well-known beach town of Kovalam. From the airport, we took a prepaid taxi and then a rickshaw into town. A small Ganesha shrine on the dashboard protected the taxi, while the auto rickshaw had stickers of Mary and Jesus adorning its windshield. This was our first indication of the religious diversity we were to find throughout the south.

Kovalam was a famous hippie haven back in the 60's. Things have changed since then (they always do) and now the once quiet fishing village has taken on larger scale developments and upmarket prices. Still, we found it to be a relatively quiet, small town well suited for a winter holiday. The main drag, known as Lighthouse Beach, stretches north for about 2 kilometers from the lighthouse to the rocky headlands that separates it from the next beach, called Hawah. Hotels, restaurants and shops line the beach; with Ayurvedic massage spas and yoga retreats tucked in behind. Coconut palms cover the hilly terrain that lead away from the beach, hiding small hotels, restaurants and shops that are around every corner.

While Lighthouse Beach itself can get a little crowded during the high season holidays, the fine white sands and the clean, warm turquoise blue ocean pull us away from any cares and worries we may have. Riding the waves is exhilarating here, as the surf is strong and fast. Past the breakers, we would float mindlessly on the ocean surface, lost in our own liquid meditation. Complete relaxation was impossible, though, because we constantly had to check our positioning as the currents quickly moved us into deeper water. With the equator being just south of here, the air hangs heavy with humidity while the sun sends down hot beating rays to the earths surface. To balance things off, the ocean breezes blows gently along the shore to cool us down. Most of all, we enjoy the clean, fresh air to breathe.

Holiday decorations are subdued and simple, but exude a distinctively exotic feeling to their surroundings. Blinking lights are wrapped around trunks of coconut palm, or woven into bamboo branches. Paper stars, unique to Kerala, cast their soft moody light from ceilings, trees and rooftops. Made from folded paper with lacy cutout patterns, they pop into three-dimensional stars when unfolded and glow in the evening darkness when a bulb is hung inside.

On Christmas morning, crowds of men and families began arriving on Kovalam Beach by boat from the nearby fishing villages. Up until then, the beach had been relatively quiet, but on Christmas day, boatload after boatload of locals came out to play in the warm waters and sunshine. They swam, rolled in the sand, ate ice cream and curiously approached Westerners, asking, "what is your name" and "what is your country." All ages, male or female, played like children all day until sunset. Christmas seems to be one of the few holidays when these locals take the day off and really enjoy the ocean.

When we thought about how the holidays would have been spent back home we smiled and thought how peaceful it was to be celebrating them here on Kovalam. We didn't miss the over-saturation of advertising, the shopping malls, and the carols that began in October at all. This year, Christmas came quietly in a tropical setting in South India. The only thing we missed was having our loved ones, friends and neighbors here to share it with us.

Sunday Market

On Sundays, a sprawling market comes to life in the morning along the banks of the Sabarmati River at the eastern foot of the Ellis Bridge. During the week, the area is a dusty, dirty place, interspersed with gypsy shacks and drying laundry. On Sunday, however, it transforms into a pulsing commerce center for the local community. Vendors offer an assortment of wares, from household necessities to used books and even to hard-to-find handcrafted tools.

Along the riverbank children fly their homemade kites while an old man dig into a pile of garbage. Others squat, ankle deep in the river, relieving themselves into the slowly flowing waters. A family of pigs scavenges the shoreline for anything edible. The smell of life hangs thick and acrid in the morning air. Vendors spread their plastic tarps in loosely organized sections, one area for household goods, another for furniture, another for used batteries and other junk. Dry dust rises and whirls in the increasing heat of the strong December sun.

Some of the goods for sale are new, but mostly they consist of previously owned and well-used items. Scattered about are a few antique dealers, selling things like old silver tea sets, utensils and serving tiffins (aluminum containers), all of a uniquely Indian design. The market offers such a variation of goods for sale that I begin to look at it as one large art installation. It seems that everything society consumes and throws away has been reclaimed for resale and reuse by others, recycling at it's most primitive.

The goods, besides the obvious antiques, are the results of a thorough search through the cities trash, combined with the incredible tenacity to precisely categorize what's found. The details of which are staggering; unbusted rubber bands, safety pins, push pins, glass bottles, spectacle lenses, circuit boards, nail polish, medicine tablets, beads and sequins. Broken items are repaired on site and sold. While this is an amazing site to us, it's simply the way of life for the people here. Everything is used to the very end, fixing and repairing until there is no further salvage possible.

The people who come to shop here are as diverse as the goods for sale. The down and out poor come to find the most basic necessities. Families come to purchase new furniture and household items. Others come to find specific, hard to find items, such as well-crafted old tools for woodworking and other professions. Collectors and artists hunt around for hours, searching for the rare and forgotten.

From what we were told, the market has been operating in the same spot for over a thousand years. While it's amazing to see what is displayed for sale today, it's interesting to think back to what might have been for sale then. Perhaps the basic household items haven't changed all that much in a thousand years here, as people still have need for a solid water pot, a religious deity, or a useful tool.

Charms in Bad Air

As one of India's major industrial cities, Ahmedabad is a polluted, dusty and noisy place. However, a certain amount of charm can be found when you wipe away the dirt and grim. It was here on the banks of the wide river that Mohandas Gandhi established the headquarters of his movement for India's independence. He named the ashram after Sabarmati River, which divides its old town and recently developed areas.

Ahmedabad is located in western India, in the state of Gujurat. This area has its own language and scripts, and many people speak Gujarati, Hindi and English. In recent years, the state has had its share of difficulties. In 2001, a massive earthquake measuring 7.9 on the Richter scale crushed the western region of Kutch and damaged many parts of Ahmedabad city. Then, in 2002 the state saw wide spread communal violence after a Muslim mob was blamed for an arson attack on a train carriage that killed 59 Hindu activists. The resulting Hindu-Muslim riots left over 1,000 dead and many more afraid to return to their homes. Thankfully, the state is currently at peace.

Gujaratis are known as entrepreneurs, and this characteristic has helped make Gujarat one of India's wealthier and most industrialized states. Gujarat's northern neighbor state, Rajasthan, has the lock on tourism, and as a result, most foreign visitors overlook this interesting west coast state. This translates into a straightforward friendliness offered by the local community, without much expectation out of visiting foreigners.

There is surprisingly high level of sophistication in Ahmedabad, perhaps reflecting the wealth of the state. Some shops offer topnotch services and products, catering mostly to the locals. A restaurant called Swati Snacks attracts well-to-do locals with its clean, modern interior, and its dishes combine traditional flavors presented in a contemporary manner. Above the restaurant, a stylish furniture and accessory shop called 360 Gallery occupies two stories of display space, where art exhibits take place. Bandhej is a place to go, if you are looking for an upscale boutique where you can find clothing of both traditional and modern styles. Trendy espresso bars attract young people and families. Street called CG Road is known to have many up-market and Western brand name shops and restaurants.

However, these charms that Ahmedabad presents are shadowed by the fact that it is one of the most polluted cities in India. The general condition of air quality is the worst we have seen not only in India, but among all places we have visited so far. Being such a major industrial area is the main cause of the pollution. A law imposing all local auto rickshaws requiring use of petrol fuel in place of kerosene has not been established here. In addition, residents freely burn trash and wood at night causing so much smoke to linger all around the city. (They do so often in order to "keep them warm in cold nights", at around 15 degrees Celsius.) The resulting horrid air looks like a thick fog under streetlights. Without much breeze on any given day, it becomes unbearably suffocating, so much so that it's rather discouraging to go out on a rickshaw, into the streets where one can bathe in the dark exhausts from vehicles.

We are staying in this city, often coughing, amazed and confused by the pollutions, but trying to make the best of what it offers.