This blog has been quiet for a while as we have been travelling. We visited a lot of new places and stayed in some lovely new hotels- and some not so lovely! It will take a while to catch up with the trip, as it was as event-filled as usual, but I shall be sharing the experience here.

The main benefit of staying at the Phool Mahal hotel in Kishangar is the opportunity to tour the fort, which is not normally open to visitors. It looms over the hotel and the old town at the edge of the lake with defensive
intent.The state was founded in the early 17th century by Kishan Singh, a younger son of the raja of Jodhpur, during the reign of Akbar. Although suffering from incursion by other states and periods of drought, Kishangar was well-administered and bacame a centre for cotton spinning and of a famous school of miniature painting which persists today under the current Maharani.Kishangarh Fort is surrounded by canal which was built by Kishan Singh. 

The fort is huge, and entering through a large archway it is obvious that it is a semi-ruin. The paintings outside the doors are large and beautiful and almost destroyed by time. Following our guide, the hotel manager, we were immediately lost in a maze on dark, decayed and very dangerous stairways which went up and down all round the building, interspersed with views of courtyards, the stables, which housed a hunderd elephants, the temple courtyard, where the Maharaja gave audiences, and the quarters of his three wives.
All rulers in Rajasthan seemed to have three wives, the favourites getting the best quarters, and here a glimpse could be seen of how they lived. Occasional remains of rich wall paintings and mosaics and pieces of furniture, such as the painted cradle and bird-shaped swing seat and the pools which cooled the rooms were a tantalising clue to the women’s easy but secluded existence.
The views from the roof over what was once the lake were magnificent. Mr Singh, the driver, wielded the monkey stick, but there were no monkeys to be seen, only the two youths from the hotel who had managed to get themselves onto a roof and watched us with amusement.We managed to get down to ground level witohut plummetting down a stairwell or breaking a leg on the holes in the treads, and took a brief look at the conversion of the stables, intended to be another hotel. I hope this one is better than the first, but doubt it.
Once out of the fort we took a walk through the timewarp of Kishagar old town. Our guide was obviously a man of importance in the town as he was greeted with feudal deference by everyone we met and had access everywhere. The poverty was palpable as was the hard labour needed to make a living. An old woman rolled bidis, local cigarettes, for which she was paid 40 rupees, about 50p a thousand. A braid factory was still going strong at 7pm and although the streets were gearing up for the evening meal few people were hanging around. The lovely old havelis were becoming derelict, the paintings covered in blue “to ward off the mosquitoes” and although the tourist potential was recognised, it was not yet exploited.
If you want the “real” Rajasthan, try a visit to Kishangar.

We have always loved old maps and their different view of the world. This map is on the wall of Brunton Boatyard in

Cochin. I don’t know the date, but it tells a probably 18th Century story of India South of the Ganges. The Laccadive and Andaman Islands are large, as are the Maldives, important stages on the journey across the Arabian Ocean and the Bay of Bengal. The monsoons are marked with dates and very large arrows showing the main trade routes for the French on the way to their other colonies. The important cities are labelled in very large script, Madurai, Calicut and Cochin amongst them. The most romantic labels of all are the Malabar and Coromandel Coast, suggesting their long histories of maritime trading from the Romans to the disputing Dutch, Portugueses and English. The French had their small territories at Pondicherry and Mahe, in he West, and managed to hang onto them well past independance.

A good way to experience any city in India is by autorickshaw. These are the small vehicles known affectionately as Tuk-tuks elsewhere in Asia and which consist of a motorcycle from end and a covered passenger compartment in the

rear. They whiz along completely impervious to the rules of the road, or the rule which says that big is best. Elephants (and in some places cows,) come first, then buses, lorries, cars, motorcycles and lastly pedestrians in the hierarchy of giving way. On our first visit we met an autorickshaw coming the wrong way round a very busy roundabout in the centre of town. Everyone uses these. Gangs of workers travel to plantations, extended families with their luggage on the roof go visiting, whole classrooms of small children in immaculate uniforms travel to school and intrepid tourists use them for airport transfers. They are truly ubiquitous. As far into the countryside as you can go you will find an autorickshaw driver stopping to offer you a ride, as walking is an affront to their driver’s pride. For the brave they make the cheapest white-knuckle ride outside a theme park. Hanging on to the bar which supports the roof, but keeping hands and elbows in to save them being ripped off by a passing lorry, you get a street-level view of the traffic which approaches in the centre of the road. In quieter areas they are an excellent way to get around, stopping off from time to time to see the sights.

In Fort Kochi the autorickshaws are very well regulated. Drivers wear uniform shirts and lurk outside hotels trying to coerce visitors into their “Ferrari”s. They often get commission from shopkeepers and are quite open about this when they ask you to visit a shop with them.

Always ask the fare first. It will be low, but you can get it lower. Your driver will take you to see all of the sights, waiting for you at relevant places and giving you a running commentary for under £2.00 for a long trip. By the end of the journey you will have new friend who will greet you if you ever go to Fort Kochi again.

Johnson’s Autorickshaw has a telephone number on the side which connects to his mother. His English is good, his uniform immaculate and vehicle clean. We met him in the road outside the Dutch Cemetery on our second visit, remembering him from the time before. He was always trying to get us to go with him to a shop where he would get a tee-shirt on commission. Exasperated by his persistence I offered to buy him a tee shirt if he went away. He was affronted for the second time. The first time was when I had insisted that his rickshaw was not a Ferrari. “To you it is an autorickshaw.” He said with a great deal of dignity. “To me, it is a Ferrari.”

I felt humbled and ashamed at the truth in this, as he had probably saved and borrowed for almost as long to buy his rickshaw as I would have to to buy, if not a Ferrari at least a very smart car. Not only that, it supported him and his family. Rather better than a Ferrari, in fact.

This photo of Alleppey beach is nothing unusual, but that is why I have chosen it. It was taken in the evening and is typical of scenes all down the  coast from Mumbai to Cape Cormarin. In the evenings a breeze runs in from the Arabian Ocean and the beach becomes the place to play, sit, eat snacks and generally enjoy a respite from the heat of the day. The sun always sets over the sea in Kerala, and a favourite occupation is sitting on the warm sand in a cooling breeze and watching the drama of the sunset.

Men and boys enter the water, although taking off shirts is generally discouraged, women and girls sometimes paddle, their saris hobbling their feet. Swimming is not the recreational activity in India that it is in England and the water is there for cooling off and having fun, not for exercise. If you look carefully at the picture you will see a couple of kites in the sky, a favourite activity for children in Alleppey.

The beaches of Kerala stretch from top to bottom of the country and are unspoilt by high-rise development for most of their length and fringed with palm trees. However, the visitor must take care. The Arabian Ocean is deep, there are currents which make swimming hazardous, especially just before, during and after the monsoon. Cleaning the beaches is not a priority, fishermen live on many stretches of the coast and it is well to be careful where one pitches one’s sun lounger! However, for lovers of the sun and sound of surf, there are none more dramatic or more beautiful.

I have just spent a long time, as usual, deleting spam from the comment section of the blog.  I love to hear from anyone who is interested enough to read the blog, but the rubbish takes over regularly now.

If you wish to comment on the blog in future you will need to register and log in.

Why not take a look at our facebook page?

http://www.facebook.com/pages/GOC-Indian-Holidays/138878946149085

There’s lots of room for discussion there.

Looking thorugh my notebook fram my last visit while planning my next, I came across an entry for a visit to Top Station on the border with Tamil Nadu above Munnar. This is a legendary place, as it used to be difficult to get to and was only accessible by jeep, if you could get a jeep to go there. It is a spectacular frive through the

tea plantations, and we rose into the cloud layer at the top to find nothing much. There was a tea stall, a barbed-wire no entry fence and a few of the usual huts. What there was was covered with flowers. Pink datura and arum lillies fringed a stream, left alone by the cows. There was wild viburnum and the plantations were edged with large yellow jasmine-flowered hedges, and a red flower I coudln’t identify. Along the roads were gardens in the English style with allysum, larkspur, marigolds, tulips, busy  lizzies, begonia and tagetes, and others which were, again, strange to me.  Further down were huge agapanthus, amarylis, wild ageratum, coleus and pink lilies were the ground was clear. I have been meaning ever since to find out which plants went which way: the wild varieties obviously travelled from India to here, but the roses and garden plants possibly went the other way.
I had a vision of a rain forest as a riot of flowering trees and shrubs. This is not true, but any keen gardener or botanist will find wild versions of familiar plants wherever they go. There are 28 species of orchids in the Western Ghats, and Munnar is the home of the endangered Kurinji plant which flowers only every 12 years. We were in the Nilgiris last time it flowered in 2006 but missed them. Unfortunately thousands of others did not, and the result was a degradation of the small area in which it lives. Development is also endangering this beautiful plant.http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/the-kurinji-blooms-just-once-every-12-years-but-are-its-days-numbered-417687.html

Both the Moghul invaders in the North and the British left a legacy of gardens. The Moghul palace gardens were oases of water and fountains and shady planting. The Hill stations have municipal gardens which could have been lifted from Tunbridge Wells, but are pleasant and interesting places. I prefer the smalls and strident colours of the more tropical

gardens with their jasmine, bougainvillea, hibiscus and oleander. some hotels plant butterfly gardens which are packed with humbler, nectar-bearing plants and get their colour from the butterflies which are everywhere in the cooler seasons. There is a gap in the market for horticultural tours in India.

There are more pictures of wild flowers on our Facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/GOC-Indian-Holidays/138878946149085

The colonial post office is alive  and well in India. The opening hours are short, the forms to fill in, like the queues are long.  Although postcards used to be difficult to buy they are everywhere now, and it is often possible for your hotel to post them for you, saving the frustration of buying stamps elsewhere.  Post takes about two weeks, usually. When sending letters expect them to take longer and to arrive well and truly mangles, and often opened. NEVER send anything in a letter which is valuable or important. On the other hand, a visit to a Post office can be an interesting and surreal experience.

We needed to post some postcards home. Mathew took us to the Post Office, where he appeared to have a stand-up fight with the two people behind the counter, before we managed to get them to understand that we wanted stamps, not airmail letters. The fierce-looking lady gave us fifteen stamps which we licked and stuck on, and handed the postcards back over the counter.

“England?” she barked.

“England” we assented. She sold us fifteen more stamps and a pot of glue, telling us that the stamps would probably come off. The glue had a plastic stick in it and not a lot of glue, but we smeared it over the stamps we had still to stick on and the ones which looked in danger of falling off, and paid again.

By this time the postcards were strung out along the counter, but she wanted us to hand them over. Collecting them into one sticky mass, we resigned ourselves to their ending up in the “impossible to deliver” bin. We were equally gluey when we left the post office, but the postcards did make it to England.

Between Jaipur and Udaipur is the town of Kishangar. It has a palace and a massive fort, and the current

Maharani runs the palace, once a hunting lodge at the edge of the lake and built by Kishant Singh in the 17th Century, as a hotel. With its many domes, barleysugar columns and decorated ralings, pictures of the Phool Mahal make it look like a fantasy of what an Indian palace should look like. It is familiar as a film set, the latest block-buster to be filmed ther a 4-hour marathon, Jodhaa Akbar, about the life of the Moghul Emperor Akbar and his Hindu Wife.

Our visit there was a mixture of frustration and hysteria. Arrival at the messy gatehouse office was prolonged as the Man in Charge had to be fetched by the staff, which seemed to consist entirely of two young boys who spent their time asleep on the grass. Our room was painted with hunting scenes and overlooked what was once a lake, but in these  days of drought, reinvented as market gardens. Furniture was poor, furnishings even poorer, and although it was just about acceptably clean, the toilet hadn’t seen a scrub for ages. A bout of shouting resulted in a clean toilet, but I was circumspect about the bath and the floor.

We arranged dinner and a visit to the fort in the evening, and looked around. The lounge was beautiful, painted with delicate paterns and full of antiques, large doors opening onto a terrace, where we decided to have tea. The staff just about managed tea, which was awful, but wet. Renovations were going on and we found out the hard way that the plaster parapet was being painted when we were splashed from above, as was the furniture; back indoors we went. Exploring the grounds we found the pool, empty, and a pavilion at the far end before we were chased off by the dogs which obviously considered the place theirs.

Our walk to the fort was fascinating, deserving a blog of its own, which I shall post later, and after this we had dinner. The food wasn’t too bad, the chicken cooked and reasonably spicy, the dahl soup average. What made dinner so memorable was that, as the only people staying at the hotel, we had both giggling youths to ourselves and a local musician brought in for entertainment. I can only describe what he did as unmusical wailing. He wailed right through dinner, hopefully not being able to see my fits of laughter as I dodged behind a pillar. A drummer joined him and took the edge off the wailing at last. We paid up to get rid of them and fled to our gloomy and cheerless room.

The next morning Mr Singh, our driver met us looking very unhappy and disgruntled. His quarters had been very poor, he had no hot water and had been unable to shave. It makes me cross when drivers are treated badly, and we knew his room was bad, but the lack of hot water was the last straw.

This could be a jewel of a hotel. The Man in Charge is there because he is a friend of the owner and knows nothing about running a hotel whatsoever. What a sad waste! Go if you can stand it, the town and the fort are worth the visit, but take your sense of humour.

There are so many things to see and do in Udaipur that it is hard to single out a few for a short stay in the city.  The

Lake Palce is the place which most people know, floating above its white reflection in the water. Many guide  books will recommend coffee or afternoon tea at this hotel, but the security situation in India makes it impossible  to visit unless you can afford to stay there. Across the water is the enormous palace started by Maharana Udai Singh in 1559 and completed by his successors in the 18th century. The palace is worthy of more than a day’s visit, as in addition to the complex of buildings, it contains many rich exhibits, including a collection of miniature paintings in the Udaipur style. We had recently seen a selection of these at an exhibition in the British Library, and here were hundreds! The palace is a winderful mixture of painted, marbled, mosaic and mirrored architecture, one glittering room after a bewildering other. The 16th Century blue and white Dutch tiles tell ofthe eclectic and wide-ranging spending habits of the Rajput rulers.

High on a wall outside the palace is a huge sun, replicated in gold on an inside wall. The original ruler was a member of

the sun- worshipping clan, although the guide on our visit told us that the workers would not begin work until they had seen the face of the sun. On dull days they looked at the copper sun on the wall and were able to start.

The old city of Udaipur is cramped, noisy and choked by the pressure of traffic which fills the narrow streets with fumes at rush hour. The bazaar covers a large area and is, as usual, divided into streets which sell one thing, textiles, silver, spices etc. The textiles of Udaipur, like those of Jaipur, are famous, printed cottons and gauze fabrics made locally. By the afternoon the streets are almost knee deep in cow manure and rubbish, but this is usually swept clean by morning.

When the bustle of the city gets too much, a visit to the Sahelion ki Bari to the North of the city can soothe away the stress. This wonderful garden was built for the ladies of the court and has lotus pools and cooling fountains in the lush vegetation.There is much more to see, the Jain temple in the city, the islands, which can be reached by boat and the many museums and painted havelis. Make sure you have enough time.

The number of hotels in Udaipur reflect the romantic popularity of this lake-side city. From the wonderful Lake
Palace, which floats over the water to the modest havelis which are dotted through the old and new towns, every price and standard is represented. Most tourists try to obtain a hotel and a room which overlooks Lake Pichola, an artificial body of water created in 1362 by the Rajput Maharajas whose palaces make this area a must for travellers.

We stayed in the Ahmet Haveli, a merchant’s house next door to the Lake Palace and with a wonderful view of the palace across the water. Unfortunately the water in the lake was low after four years of poor monsoon rainfall, but there was still enough to see the small ferries plying the guests across to the palatial Taj hotel! A large mango

tree outside the room was alive with birds, and during the hottest part of the day, sitting in the window alcove watching the activity below was a great way to relax. The room was large, clean and although not luxuriously decorated, had a flavour of old Rajasthan. The air conditioning had trouble coping with 45 degrees, but the evenings became cooler and the temperature bearable.The hotel pool was a little murky, and although we were assured that it was OK, and the water scooped clean of leaves and dust twice a day, we gave it a miss.
Ahmet Haveli is famous for its restaurant which is outside and overlooks the lake. Traditional dishes mixed well with the western section of the menu, and, felling a little fragile, I appreciated both a simple and traditional rice dish and a very good vegetable gratin. Banana pancakes at breakfast are cliched, but huge! The tables nearest the lake are the most sought-after, but avoid the ones under the large tree which dominates the courtyard. Every evening Udaipur puts on its most spectacular wildlife display. Thousands of large fruit bats come out of their roosts all round the lake.

The mango tree outside our window was a favourite place and soon became full of bats, whic seemed to love the fruit. The other favourite tree was the one in the restaurant and we spent one meal picking the detritus from their meal out of our food. Every now and then one of the staff rattled a tin can put strategically in the upper branches to scare them off- releasing more leaf-litter and dust into our meal.
After an exceptionally good monsoon the water is now back in the lake and Udaipur worthy of its name the “Venice of India” Take alook live at:
http://www.earthtv.com/en/camera-destination/udaipur-india

The spectacular drive from Munnar to Top Station is now comparatively easy  and no longer ta route exclusively for land  rovers. It winds up the mountains through tea and teak plantations to the border with Tamil Nadu and gives unbeatable views across the Ghats. You can see the tea being picked and weighed and on one stretch we stopped to watch an elephant loading huge teak logs onto the back of a lorry. Immersed in the Indian-ness of this it came as a shock to come to an alpine meadow complete with chalet and a herd of glossy, full-sized cows

You quickly get used to the Indian cow, a miserable creature which lurks about eating rubbish and waiting to be pushed out of the way. They are generally small, often malnourished and give the impression of being heartily fed-up with their sacred lives- not so sacred in the Christian and Muslim areas of South India. What a difference these cows showed! They are the product of the Indo-Swiss dairy project which started in 1963 to improve the breeding stock of the Indian cow. The result is the Swiss Brown cow, which is particularly suited to the conditions in the Western Ghats and is a prolific milk producer. Some of this has transferred to the North, where cheese is being made at the farm in Coonoor, as I have blogged about before.

So, here are the cows in their alpine meadow.

There are many resorts around the edge of Lake Vembanad, new and established, but few can match the standard of accommodation and service of the Coconut Lagoon. From arrival by boat from the jetty on the far side of the lake, you are treated with the usual friendly professionalism that is the hallmark of CGH Earth resorts.
Accommodation is in cottages by the small canals which ensure that the ground is well-drained, or larger blocks overlooking the lake. The cottages are built in the traditional style and are furnished with antiques. There are outside bathrooms, ours containing a small banana plantation! The pool is large and very clean, the pool furniture is good and plentiful and there is a bar right by the side where you can get drinks and snacks if you don’t fancy a full meal.
There are two restaurants, the main one which serves a buffet as well as local and international a la carte options, and the grill, which serves mostly sea food. In keeping with a resort of this standard, the prices are not cheap, but the food is excellent, most fresh and locally sourced from organic producers or the groups own gardens.
A night on one of the hotel’s Spice Coast luxury Houseboats can be arranged from the resort jetty.

Lakeside suites	The pool
Bananas in the bathroom	Lake Vembanad

The staff are keen to make sure that not only are you comfortable, but that you are never bored, providing a range of activities including a walk to the local village, nature walks with the resident wildlife expert, music lessons, boat trips and visits to the bird sanctuary, which is right next door. There is the usual care for the environment with active recycling programmes for compost and water, the use of local produce and a butterfly and wildlife area. Turtles swim in the canals and there are a variety of lake fish which come to be fed. One afternoon I saw a member of staff spending time with a small child teaching her how to fish, an example of the care taken on all the guests.

Outside our cottage was a tethered mini-bull which was moved about to graze from time to time. This engaging animal was about 3 ft to the shoulder and a lovely smokey combination of browns and greys. This is a Vachoor Bull, an endangered breed which produces chocolate-coloured milk, much prized in ayurvedic medicine. The hotel group have a breeding programme to restore this breed to a healthy population.
Bananas in the bathroom, bulls outside- the usual fascinating mix of CGH Earth experience!

The wonderful BBC series “A History of the World in 100 Objects” has been accruing objects over the 100 since the last one was broadcast. One of the recent objects contributed by members of the public is this one:
Food press
a rotary food press. The flour went in at one end and the extruded dough came out at the other for frying into the familiar snacks I have mentioned before.
I understand why the contributor wanted this machine to be added as one which traces the history of the country. We have been fascinated by the way in which hand-made articles and machines dominate the life of even the villages. I have written before about how an elderly relative argued at length over the safety of chaff-cutters, and how the argument was settled by a quick look at the Indian chaff cutters which are ubiquitous in rural areas, recognisable as the same ones which my relatives used in the early 20th Century.
A familar sight by the side of the road everywhere are the small boys holding a large chunk of metal which is being heated and bashed in a seemingly never-ending process. How else are all these aged machines kept working than by the local blacksmith?

A trip to India is a trip to history, especially in the rural areas where potters throw clay on a foot-driven wheel, bricks smoulder in wood-fired clamps and the pre-industrial world continues as ever.

Ayurveda, the ancient system of healing and well-being, is based on the view that the elements, forces, and principles all interact in nature, including in human beings. Mind and body are fully integrated.

For more than 5,000 years “rishis”, or seers, and healers passed the traditions on orally from teacher to student, the tradition not being written down until the 5th Century BC when sanskrit texts were produced detailing the medicines, practices and disciplines which go to make up the holistic remedies. For many years Ayurveda flourished and was used by rich and poor alike in India and Southeast Asia.

There is an emphasis on the prevention of disease and the promotion of harmony with the individual’s life and the world around them. Thoughts and feelings are just as important as diet, exercise and the use of herbs and massage. Ayurvedic treatment therefore may require a change of lifestyle as well as a course of treatment.

In India, Ayurvedic practitioners receive state-recognized, institutionalized training in parallel to their physician counterparts and although there are no national standards for medicines used, there are companies which are well-known for the quality of their preparations. some of these are based on plant extracts used extensively in the West in medicine and are powerful in their effects.

A course of Ayurveda treatment requires time and committment from the patient, at least ten days being recommended for the therapeutic process to have an effect on disease or serious complaints. The type of treatments on offer at resorts and Ayurvedic centres varies enormously, and much of what is offered at spas is not considered to be treatment at all, although it is, nevertheless very beneficial as a means of letting go of stress!

Ayurveda treatment centres don’t usually have a high profile with tourists, but concentrate on longer-term clients. They are often certified by the government and provide well-qualified staff. CGH Earth’s centre at Kovali Kovilakom is the ultimate in Ayurveda luxury. The other CGH Earth resorts offer a high standard of treatment, but concentrate on the de-stressing and de-toxing shorter-term treatments of massage, hot oil and exercise therapies. Taken in one of their beautiful resorts, the Coconut Lagoon on the backwaters, Marari Beach on the coast near Alleppey or Spice Village near the wildlife reserve at Thekkady, these are the ultimate in relaxing and well-being.
CGH Earth Hotels

Most resports in Kerala will offer spa treatment based on Ayurvedic medicine, but one of the more reasonable and reliable resorts is the Keraleeyam on the backwaters at Alleppey. This charming resort is right on a main arm of the backwater canal and in spite of the canal chaos going on right outside is a wonderfully relaxing place with good food and helpful staff. Before embarking on treatment it is best to check that your hotel can offer more than a simple spa. For real luxury, try the Zuri on Lake Vembanad with its palatial spa and pools.

More information on the theory and practice of Ayurveda can be found at here

The idea of a hedge over 2,000 miles long is mind-boggling, but a hedge which was 14 feet thick and 8 ft high and made of impenetrable thorny trees represents an investment of human labout which could only be achieved in a land where manpower is cheap, and where the returns would pay for the effort.
Ghandi chose salt as the battle ground for his campaign of passive resistance in the 1930’s because salt is essential to human health and because the taxing of salt has been an oppressive measure in India for hundreds of years. The Moghuls taxed salt long before the British arrived in India, but the taxes under the British East India Company reached new levels of tyrany. The differences in taxation in the East, after Warren Hastings brought all salt production under his control, made the customs duties to the Bengal Presidency particularly severe and smuggling was rife. Salt was taxed in one direction and sugar, which was also taxed, in the other, leading to felays in movement right across India. The “parmit lain” was a combination of dry hedge, the collection of which led to conflict with fuel-starved villages, and trees which took root where conditions allowed. A mixture of prickly pear, Indian plum, acacia and other thorny trees were used. Often miles of the hedge were ripped away by storms, consumed by ants or stolen. Huge numbers of officials were required to patrol and maintain the hedge, a task recoded as back-breaking.
As Moxham points out, in a place where water-bourne diseases leading to diarrhoea are common, the need to rehydrate with salt makes the high price of salt an issue of life and death to the poor. It wasn’t until 1879 when prices on both sides of the Customs Line evened out that the line was abandoned.
Since its abandonmnet it has virtually vanished. Roy Moxham documents his three-year search for the remains of the line which is not recorded in the history books, but remains only in the records of the East India Company. As well as the tendency of all wood to be appropriated for firewood or fodder, roads and railways have been built along and over the line, as it formed a natural line for these to take. At last he traced a small remnant of the hedge near Ettawa in Utta Pradesh.
This is a fascinating story, well-documented on Wikipedia. A sobering example of the lengths the British occupiers of India were prepared to go to to ensure their taxes.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inland_Customs_Line

Most travellers to Kerala make a visit to a Kathakali centre to watch the traditional dance form which originated in Kerala in the 17th Century. It depicts traditional hindu mythology and combines literature (Sahithyam), music (Sangeetham), painting (Chithram), acting (Natyam) and dance (Nritham). The spectacular costumes and make-up, which takes hours to apply, are constrained by tradition and ritual, and watching the dancers apply the thick colours and paper face additions is part of the experience. (Take mosquito repellant, as this happens before evening performances.) The colours are important to the character portrayed, and this includes the eyes, which are often coloured red, standing out vividly against the green of the faces given to the heroic characters. This is achieved by putting a small drop of a herbal preparation on the lower eyelid. This is not without its danger or discomfort if it touches the wrong part of the eye. The green face and high headgear is known as Pacha and appears most often in the theatre-based form. All of the movements are heavily ritualised, hand movements and expressions combining to make an elaborate sign language. There are twenty-four Mudras (hand gestures), Asamyutha Mudras using one hand and ‘Samyutha Mudras’ using both hands. In combination these make 470 symbols.

Kathakali dancer	Kathakali dancers, Cochin
Putting on make-up

The dance is accompanied by percussion instruments and a vocal chorus. Traditionally, the performances continued through the night, not stopping until dawn. Now the dances have been adapted to a modern stage and only last an hour or two.

There is more information on http://www.saigan.com/heritage/dance/dhan5.htm

We have new occupation in the office at lunchtimes; hunt the elephant. Google Earth has recently upped the resolution of its coverage of Southern India, and you can visit it again from space when you know what you are looking at. Our cars are clearly visible on Google, so, I reasoned, would be elephants in the forests and nature reserves, so the hunt is on.

The camera passed over Periyar in the dry season. The water is very low, and you can make out two of the tourist boats returning from the trip along the lake. The Lake Palace Hotel is also very clear. This is an old hunting lodge which now has six rooms, and can only be accessed by boat. Once in, at 4.30pm, you are there until 6am as the lake is too dangerous for boats to travel at night. Once in, though, it is hard to see that you would want to leave, as you can sit on your veranda and watch animals come to the lake to drink. See our hotel review on the experience.

At night, once again the animals are very close, in our case on the roof where civet cats kept us awake running after rats, and a wild pig tried to eat its way through the door. I hope it was wild pig. Being awake at dawn, getting up to hear the monkeys and birds is magic, but when we were there I was so tired after night of cats and pigs that I passed on the opportunity of an early morning boat ride to see more animals.

Just back to sleep, I was wakened by the sound of trumpeting and running feet. It possibly wasn’t wise to watch “When Elephants Attack” on the Sky Channel a few nights before. I shot out of bed at the same time as the staff began knocking on doors for guests to see the elephants, two families with babies very close to the hotel. We all, staff and guests who could be bothered to get up, watched the elephants for an hour, as the bull protected the babies from anything which came too close. Breakfast was late, but breakfast happened every day, elephants didn’t, and the staff were as pleased as the guests to be able to see them. When the boats came back around the headland we waved them onto the inlet where the elephants were. They had seen none on their trip so far, and eventually the animals got bored with the interruption and vanished into the forest.

Google Earth would have seen it all, had it been there. I am sure that there are elephants somewhere on their film.

Some years ago, when we first went to Marari Beach, there was only the CGH Earth resort frontage along miles of pristine beach fringed with palm trees. We could not understand why this beautiful beach, which stretched for miles, was so untouched and unspoiled. The fishermen pulled their boats above the tide line

sround a small creek which meandered in from the paddy fields. true, there was a small fringe of litter, but that stopped a few yards along the sand. Now it still looks the same, but there are more places to stay: the Abad has recently opened a hotel, the Pollathai is further up the beach and the Fishermen’s Village is close by.
What we didn’t realise on that first visit was that we were standing outside one of the most luxurious resorts on the coast. Beach Symphony is secluded and tucked away behind trees with its own beach frontage.
There are only four bungalows, all in the traditional style and one with a plunge pool. Ours was huge, with a large veranda where we could relax and eat our meals, charmingly served by our own member of the friendly and helpful staff. The furnishings were elegant and of a high standard, the bathroom a place where I could happily have spent the entire stay and the surrounding gardens a cool and welcoming place to lounge around. The resort is run by a couple from Belgium and the cooking is Keralan or with a European twist and cooked to order after a caring consultation. (My plain vegetables were wonderful, tasty and perfectly cooked!)

In the garden is a boat which was washed up by the Tsunami, deliberately left as a reminder of the devastation of 2005. The disaster is one reason why the beach front is kept clear of development, although a few buildings are creeping closer to the palm tree fringe.
If you want a few days of secluded luxury on the beach, this resort is the one to choose. Take a look at the elegant website to see what the cottages are like.
Resort Website