Hooty Ooty & Steaming down the Western Ghats

After a bumpy mini-bus ride up to Ooty through national parks, 39 hairpin bends and the Nilgiri Hills, we arrived tired and hungry at the YWCA, recommended by the Lonely Planet as a quiet clean place outside of town, with big fires. It was absolutely freezing, no sign of any fires and the rooms were damp and cold, including the bedding. After very small portions of average food we tried to get some sleep in our lofty cold rooms. The cold woke us all constantly through the night so first thing in the morning we left for Ooty town - lots of hooting, belching traffic and hardly looked like how I imagined a hill station. Maya and I found a decent basic place above one of the best Darbars in town (according to 'the book').

But what we wanted that afternoon was carbs, carbs, carbs.... so we went for huge pizzas with extra everything. Given I was feeling a bit ill (again), cheese was probably not the best food for me to eat and I spent the entire next day in bed or on the loo. Lee, Maya, Tevo & Roisin went on a trip to the Nilgiri Hills. Apparently I didn't miss much. There's a cyclone sitting off the Tamil Nadu coast from Chennai, but we're heading east.

We took the steam train through Conoor and headed back towards Kerala. the train was cool with our own first class carriage and amazing views. Tea plantations led down to pristine looking forest and waterfalls hanging off steep cliffs. Very nice. Arriving late we took a local bus to Coimbatore where I shared my seat with a woman with the largest backside in Tamil Nadu. The children had to battle to hold a seat between them until Lee intervened. We take the 9.30pm to Kochi arriving at 3.30am. After much messing around and hassle with both the rickshaw driver and a hotel with the Gestapo for staff, we finally get some rest. We have arrived in a communist state. They want photocopies of passports and large deposits then wake us up early to hassle us again (since getting a photocopy of your passport at 4am was somewhat unlikely).

The children are feeling very hassled and tired and travel weary. It's time to find a place to chill for a month. We take a very long and hot taxi journey to Vypeen Island - what a pit. The island itself has some nice little villages but the beach is horrible and trashed, with lots of Indian day trippers. There are no guesthouses and although we find a 3 bed house to rent, it's in its own little rubbish pit garden with complimentary razor blades. Tevo says "It's rubbish here". Lee replies "It's not rubbish Tevo, rubbish is what Indian tourists throw on the floor!" It's a good job some of us are maintaining our sense of humour - I think I left mine back at the Green Hotel in Mysore along with my health.

We head to Fort Cochin in the hope of finding some Western oriented tourism, decent guesthouses and something other than rubbish to look at. We're supposed to be heading to Varkala, a beach in the south, but I'm not convinced anymore. We've been here nearly three months and are all very tired just now. Perhaps we shouldn't be trying to look for somewhere we have already found. We've seen alot of India in that time, but it's time to remember that the children are only seven - it's not an easy life here and homesickness is kicking in, fuelled by exhaustion and sensory overload.

Oh how I dream of modern sewage systems, a bit of cleaning that involves some elbow grease (on places like toilet handles rather than leaving them all poop stained), a bed that is at least the length of a full grown person, fluffy mashed potato, brown bread (without sugar thanks) and soya products (please bring us Sosmix Caroline).