Into the Spice Hills

On Sunday, I left the backwaters and headed east into the hills where they grow spices. The road was incredibly scenic, passing first through rubber, and then through pineapple, tapioca, coffee, tea, and spice plantations. The tea plantations in particular were stunning. The tea bushes were all trimmed flat and looked like green mosaic tiles covering the hills.

The towns themselves were ugly. Densely packed storefronts cluttered with signs, and littered with, well, litter. But outside the towns, the houses were quite nice. They seemed to be made of cement covered with stucco and had red tile roofs.

Although I knew that Kerala was religiously diverse, I was surprised at how many christian churches, schools, convents, hospitals, and shrines we passed. Dozens in a three hour drive. There were also a handful of mosques, but hardly any Hindu temples.

About halfway there, we went through a town that served as a staging point for a pilgrimage to the Hindu shrine of Sabarimala. The shrine is only open two months a year, and Sunday was the festival of Makara Sankranti, the high point of the pilgrimage. Only men and women not of child-bearing age (defined -- generously -- as 10 to 55) can go the shrine. We saw only men, dressed in black dhotis (ankle length wrap-around skirts, that can be folded in half to become knee length skirts.)  I don't know how many we saw, but a lot. Including cars and trucks with people literally hanging out of windows and doors. (Sign # 673 that they have different notions of traffic safety than we do.)