The long lost stories of Christmas 2006 . . . Heck I still haven't written about all the things I did Christmas 2005 . . .
We took an “indicar” from George’s to Munnar. Munnar is a tourist trap. It’s nestled up in the “Southern Himalayas.” Likely story- those peeks were barely foot hills in comparison, but they were beautiful nevertheless. There were miles and miles of tea plantations. Tea plantations must be the most orderly things in India. There are hillsides blanketed with perfectly trimmed, carefully placed and brilliantly colored shrubs.
There are men and woman sheathed in plastic aprons, brandishing clippers with attached bellows. Well, that’s what they looked like, really they were the collecting bags for the tea tips snipped at their peek of tastiness. I guess. I heard a nasty little rumor that all the best tea is sent to Europe or kept in country and the dredges were sent to the US- historically we are not looked well upon on account of the little “Boston Tea Party” incident- and they all figure our buds aren’t so discerning after all. The best part of the tea leaf is the tip. That’s why all the tea shrubs are perfectly trimmed.
The drive to Munnar was interesting enough- we went out of the back waters, out of the rubber plantations, out of the heat and into the cool-cool hills. Those hills were not nearly as cool as I’d heard tell, but any cool is nice when you’ve spent Christmas Day in a hammock swatting mosquitoes and gazing out at a rice patty surrounded by banana trees and palms.
About 20 kilometers out of Munnar our driver got the idea of a commission into his wee-little head and we stopped at every fancy resort he could find before we got into the “city” of Munnar. After picking us up from George’s I don’t know what would have possessed him to think we were going to pay for a resort hotel.
Being that is was peak travel time, all the nicer places were filled up. I wasn’t interested in staying out in the boonies again any way. I wanted to be able to walk to my choice of restaurant and shop for and assortment of useless shiny objects in a market. I urged him onward toward Munnar.
Once in Mun
nar I spotted a place mentioned in Lonely Planet as cheap but clean enough accommodation. I told the driver to go there. Suddenly everything was clandestine and he didn’t know English. He motioned us to role up the heavily tinted windows pointing at the police on the road. I told him to turn down the street toward the “Brothers Hotel.” He said it was a private car. I said “So what?” He said private cars couldn’t go down that street, and surely he would have to take us further on out of town to find a resort hotel for us. I told him to stop the car and we would walk our butts down to the Brothers and see if they had a room.
After a very little negotiation and a look at the room, we decided to stay with the Brothers. They’d been there since 1955. The rooms seemed to have the things we wanted: a bed with seemingly clean sheets, a bathroom with a shower and hot and cold taps, not to mention a hot water heater (!) Then we just had to convince the driver to drive his private car down the public street so we could unload.
Although they were adorable, we decided against eating with the Brothers. The older Brother wore an ancient looking, stretched out “monkey cap” (aka ski mask) the whole time we were there. The Brothers boasted of only one dish on their menu. It was the same dish which has been on the menu since 1955. Fish curry. I wouldn’t have doubted if was actually the very same fish curry they had been serving since 1955. I can’t believe we didn’t get a picture of the Brothers.
In Munnar I greatly enjoyed antagonizing all the salesmen at the tiny shops up and down the main road. I would go to one, unfold everything they had, try it on, debate about colors and prices and then leave. A few hours later, I’d go back and start again. I ended up buying one hot pink and gold shawl, one “luxury” bath mat (Which was, I might add a fine upgrade to our room at the Brothers.) and any number of tiny change purses with shiny elephants on them. I bought several shalwar sets, had them made up, and they turned out too small- I swear it really is
beyond the tailors here that I am quite as large as I am.
We took a day tour to see things like “The Honey Bee Tree.” It was a tree with a lot of honey bees- go figure. We also saw “Echo Point” where, try as you might you would never- ever hear an echo- I’m not sure how that bit got ruined. We saw some dams and some lakes and a pretty little elephant giving rides. We went to “Top Station” which according to the brochure is the “Toppest Most Station” in the area. Good to know.
Oh the things you can see in Munnar . . .
There are men and woman sheathed in plastic aprons, brandishing clippers with attached bellows. Well, that’s what they looked like, really they were the collecting bags for the tea tips snipped at their peek of tastiness. I guess. I heard a nasty little rumor that all the best tea is sent to Europe or kept in country and the dredges were sent to the US- historically we are not looked well upon on account of the little “Boston Tea Party” incident- and they all figure our buds aren’t so discerning after all. The best part of the tea leaf is the tip. That’s why all the tea shrubs are perfectly trimmed.
The drive to Munnar was interesting enough- we went out of the back waters, out of the rubber plantations, out of the heat and into the cool-cool hills. Those hills were not nearly as cool as I’d heard tell, but any cool is nice when you’ve spent Christmas Day in a hammock swatting mosquitoes and gazing out at a rice patty surrounded by banana trees and palms.
About 20 kilometers out of Munnar our driver got the idea of a commission into his wee-little head and we stopped at every fancy resort he could find before we got into the “city” of Munnar. After picking us up from George’s I don’t know what would have possessed him to think we were going to pay for a resort hotel.
Being that is was peak travel time, all the nicer places were filled up. I wasn’t interested in staying out in the boonies again any way. I wanted to be able to walk to my choice of restaurant and shop for and assortment of useless shiny objects in a market. I urged him onward toward Munnar.
Once in Mun
nar I spotted a place mentioned in Lonely Planet as cheap but clean enough accommodation. I told the driver to go there. Suddenly everything was clandestine and he didn’t know English. He motioned us to role up the heavily tinted windows pointing at the police on the road. I told him to turn down the street toward the “Brothers Hotel.” He said it was a private car. I said “So what?” He said private cars couldn’t go down that street, and surely he would have to take us further on out of town to find a resort hotel for us. I told him to stop the car and we would walk our butts down to the Brothers and see if they had a room.After a very little negotiation and a look at the room, we decided to stay with the Brothers. They’d been there since 1955. The rooms seemed to have the things we wanted: a bed with seemingly clean sheets, a bathroom with a shower and hot and cold taps, not to mention a hot water heater (!) Then we just had to convince the driver to drive his private car down the public street so we could unload.
Although they were adorable, we decided against eating with the Brothers. The older Brother wore an ancient looking, stretched out “monkey cap” (aka ski mask) the whole time we were there. The Brothers boasted of only one dish on their menu. It was the same dish which has been on the menu since 1955. Fish curry. I wouldn’t have doubted if was actually the very same fish curry they had been serving since 1955. I can’t believe we didn’t get a picture of the Brothers.
In Munnar I greatly enjoyed antagonizing all the salesmen at the tiny shops up and down the main road. I would go to one, unfold everything they had, try it on, debate about colors and prices and then leave. A few hours later, I’d go back and start again. I ended up buying one hot pink and gold shawl, one “luxury” bath mat (Which was, I might add a fine upgrade to our room at the Brothers.) and any number of tiny change purses with shiny elephants on them. I bought several shalwar sets, had them made up, and they turned out too small- I swear it really is
beyond the tailors here that I am quite as large as I am.We took a day tour to see things like “The Honey Bee Tree.” It was a tree with a lot of honey bees- go figure. We also saw “Echo Point” where, try as you might you would never- ever hear an echo- I’m not sure how that bit got ruined. We saw some dams and some lakes and a pretty little elephant giving rides. We went to “Top Station” which according to the brochure is the “Toppest Most Station” in the area. Good to know.
Oh the things you can see in Munnar . . .
Next time I'll tell about the way out of Munnar.
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