India (Frommer's, 4th Edition) - Keith Bain [219]
CRUISING THE BACKWATERS
Reset your watch to a rhythm of life that has gone unchanged for centuries by boarding a kettuvallam, the long, beautifully crafted cargo boats that ply the waterways with cargo (if you don’t mind being referred to as such). An engineering feat, a kettuvallam is made from lengths of ironwood, anjili, or jackwood, and not a single nail is used in the construction—it’s joined with thick coir (from the outer shell of a coconut) ropes, and sealed with fish oil and a black caustic resin produced by boiling cashew kernels.
The houseboat experience allows you to aimlessly drift past villages, temples, and churches and be thoroughly exposed to the rural lifestyle of the backwaters. As if you’re on the very large set of a reality TV show (with a huge dollop of the Discovery Channel thrown in), you can watch as women, unperturbed by your drifting presence, wash their long ebony tresses or pound away at laundry; children play at the water’s edge and men dive for mussels; and elephants and water buffalo wade at will. Fishermen suavely holding umbrellas above their heads suddenly drift by, while floating vendors using single-log canoes and other modest craft deliver commodities such as rice and coir fiber. On the shore, toddy tappers whisk up palm trees (note that you can ask to stop at a village to buy unforeseen necessities like beer or coconut toddy); see “Scrambling for Their Tipple,” below. And when the sun sets, the sky lights up in magnificent shades of orange and red. Gliding past the rural communities that cling to the banks is without a doubt one of the most relaxing and romantic ways to witness a timeless lifestyle, where people rely on impossibly tiny tracts of land to cultivate subsistence crops and keep a few animals, using slender jackfruit wood canoes to get around, deliver goods, and do a spot of fishing. And of course it is always rather marvelous to be waited on hand and foot by three servants.
The original concept of turning cargo boats into tourist cruise vessels was the brainchild of Babu Varghese of TourIndia (an outfit that incidentally fell into temporary disarray since Varghese employed a hit man to punish his partner—high business drama, India-style). Varghese transformed the kettuvallam into a livable houseboat by expanding the original size to include two or three rooms, a flush toilet, a shower, and a small viewing or sunbathing platform. With designs that owe some allegiance to the Chinese junk but that more closely resemble a small Sydney Opera House, these beautiful crafts were initially propelled by pole but now more usually by a small (and it is hoped quiet) motor. In 2007 the state government finally started taking action against those engines that pollute, and not a minute too soon: 8 years back there were perhaps 15 houseboats operating out of Alappuzha; today the figure is in excess of 650—all the more reason to be careful with whom you book, and to seriously consider coming in the off-season.
While the general idea is to wind your way aimlessly through the waterways, one of the most popular stop-off points for visitors is Champakulam, where 500-year-old St. Mary’s Church shows definite traces of Hindu influence—from the small statue of Christ assuming a pose typical of Krishna, to the custom of leaving one’s footwear outside. Another stop worth scheduling is at the Amritapuri Ashram ( 0476/289-6179 or -6278; www.amritapuri.org), home of the world’s most famous female guru, Amma, who is endearingly known as the “Hugging Mother.” The Mother is today a global phenomenon—some call her a living god—and is said to believe in physically manifesting her love and compassion for humanity—she has embraced thousands of devotees, literally; if she’s not on tour, this is exactly what she will do to you! If this sounds a little too touchy-feely,