Keralan Magic *sigh*

22/9/2010
"Listless" would be a good word to describe how I've been feelin' these past few days. My return from Kerala threw me unwillingly into the drab dispassionate
reality of school. I was initially relieved at a semester of easy classes, but they're not so much easy as they are a complete and utter joke. I don't understand how professors (esp. in masters-level classes) can get away with borderline-racist rants or just nonsensical babble. I miss being excited to learn and I miss feeling challenged to think critically, but here my greatest challenge is to stay awake in class, or at least to find the most discreet way of falling asleep in class. Winter quarter, I'm sure, will provide a turbulent transition after six months of my brain under-functioning. I've had my fill of stiff drinks to ease the bristling edge of this fact, and instead I find solace in Vonnegut's statement, to the effect of "the closest thing to proof of god is music." So I hang my cares to dangle from the gentle billowing of the guitar's deliberate and gentle plucking...
On a much lighter note, this negativity comes in the aftershock of what was easily the best week of my life. Part of the EAP program included a week-long trip to the sunny, southern shores of Kerala. This means everything was already planned and paid for, and all we had to do was float carelessly from one destination to the next, meandering capriciously to the calls of coconutty, ayurvedic, spice-laden desires.
Starting with a long train ride, I threw myself into the beautiful words of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, stopping only to sleep on the top tier of the sleeper train. When we arrived in the town of Kochi/Cochin/Kotchi, a van took us to our marvelous seaside hotel resembling a Spanish hacienda and complete with a dock leading out to the Arabian Sea. This is where one of Jesus' disciples came after Jesus' death and established Christian influence in India. Also, when the British came to colonize, Kerala was their point of entry. And now, Kerala stands as India's first and longest-standing democratically-elected communist government. Such distinction is certainly sensed when walking among the old colonial cemeteries and basilicas, and feasting one's eyes on the setting sun behind the nets of Chinese fishing boats.
The next destination was Thekaddy, home to the Periyar Tiger Reserve, where I got to go on a day trip of trekking and bamboo rafting (and leech-killing). Thekaddy lake is beautiful, with carcasses of trees reaching out of the water towards the sky, some capped with birds' nests, most left ragged from the whipping of the ripples. Falling asleep on the raft under the sun left my left eyelid a little burned, serving as proof of my unfettered submission to the warmth of nature's enveloping embrace. That night I managed to slip away from the group long enough to get an ayurvedic massage for some USD$10 and an extra-spicy thali which I ate with my hands and paid for with a mere USD$2! On top of that, I was lucky enough to seize the advantage of an odd-numbered group to stay in one of the Wildernest's HUGE rooms all by myself. As I wasn't one for partying after such a relaxing evening, I spent the rest of the night in shavasana pose, pondering the doability of a solo traveling trip to Pondicherry and the symbols and depth of One Hundred Years of Solitude.
I woke early the next morning to descend from the crisp, exhilarating mountain air to the backwaters. Two houseboats awaited us whose crew welcomed us with wreaths of jasmine and large bottles of Kingfisher beer. Overwhelmed by inspiration, I immediately perched on the front of the boat to write, desperate to document (in crude form though it was) the sights, sounds, and smells of the moment. The peacefulness of the trip reached its climax at tea time, post-impromptu yoga sesh, where, with fried, cardamom-enlaid plantain in one hand and delicious chai in the other, I finished my book under the pink sky of the setting sun. I read the last page over, not to let an once of Marquez's magic escape me, and set the pleasure centers of my brain to smoldering like the cigarette I had let burn to the filter, un-puffed in my preoccupation. I gave myself over to the night after that, playing cards and swimming in the inviting waters. One night on the houseboat was simply not enough. We awoke the next morning and emerged from our mosquito nets sleepy and sad to leave so early. Driving through the town gave me yet another view of India, one where the sun gushes audaciously onto the streets that are almost clean and almost free of beggars. I wish EAP had a program of study in Kerala!!

(Sorry people but I'm afraid one blog entry per month will have to suffice...)