We have decided to shake things up by travelling to another location daily so we can cram more stuff in to this already gargantuan trip, so I haven’t had a huge amount of time to write. I will fill you in on what we’ve been doing over the last few days, but thought I’d start with where we are now, so until then…Greetings from Kodaikanal! The city on top of the hill.
Yesterday was our first real ‘if we don’t get on the connecting bus we may not find another one for an uncomfortably long period of time’ experience. So we left Trichy after some morning temple viewing, uncertain as to exactly how the day would pan out, somehow found a bus to Dindigul, and sat on it for 2.5-hours feeling kind of worried about the next phase of the trip.
We stayed up late the night before figuring out how we’d do the Trichy-Kodaikanal-Mumbai-Kanyakumari journey, and it seemed like the logical option do it in that order, given the accessibility of transport from one place to another, but we’d read loads of different things about how to get to Kodaikanal so we just kind of left and hoped for the best. After getting off at Dindigul bus depot, we raced around asking various conductors where our bus left from, vaguely worried they’d laugh and say something like ‘you can’t get to Kodaikanal from here’, but they were very helpful and pointed to an already moving bus.
From the many hours of bus travel I’ve done over the last week, I’ve learned that stopping the bus for passengers is more of an irritating formality, so we jumped on that moving bus and continued on to Kodaikanal with a driver who was itching to kamikaze in to pretty much anything. We were swerving to the right hand side of the road around auto rickshaws, motorcycles, vans, trucks, buses, leaving interestingly small gaps between us and the oncoming traffic, and speeding up wherever possible until we got to the mountains where the bus refused to go beyond about 50km/h up the windy hills, so it took about 3.5-hours in total.
It’s been so hot over the last week that I didn’t even consider it might be cold at the hill station. As we ventured further up the hill, as the sun began to set and air got colder, it became pretty clear the people around me were suffering. There were people in giant coats, scarves, and beanies, wringing their hands together for warmth. Growing up on a set of mountains myself, I thought it was kind of funny. I mean it’s cold, but not that cold. It’s like The Blue Mountains in springtime. So we finally reached the top and got a taxi to our hotel: Hotel Mount View, the land mold and mildew. Now that place was cold. It was awful. So, so awful. We also hadn’t eaten since breakfast and I’m fairly sure that made it worse. I knelt on the bed and my leg was damp. There was one thin blanket.
Chris (being highly allergic to mold) started coughing and choking fiercely. We grabbed the owner and pointed out the sheet of mold under the bed and tried to explain how Chris would have difficulty breathing because of it, and he said things like ‘all the rooms are the same’ and ‘it will not affect you’. So we left and ended up in the Hilltop Hotel – where they have big doonas, coffee making facilities in the room, cable TV, giant windows and heating. It’ expensive, but I’m so comfortable it should be illegal.
It’s now morning one of Kodaikanal, so much exploring will be done later today. The air reminds us of home – crisp and clear, but Indians don’t really do serenity. Chris was imagining something like the Blue Mountains (our hometown in Australia) or some old British town where there’d be cottages with big views, fire places – somewhere honking your horn amid such insatiable peace would warrant a scolding.
I was under no illusions.
They’ve basically tried to cram an entire city on to a mountain. Honking your horn every two-minutes to alert people of your existence is still very much a thing, the cars still have Nokia 3315-style music built in that automatically plays when reversing to alert everyone to the fact that you’re reversing, and people are still burning their rubbish everywhere like they seem to do everywhere. I’m yet to find a place that doesn’t smell like burning plastic.