Fort Kochi

On this, the last leg of the journey, we drove for only just a bit more than two hours to the west coastal city of Kochi (sometimes Cochin). The day began with breakfast on our own boat, and a short cruise to meet bus.

On the way, we stopped along the waterway one last time at one of the oldest Catholic congregations in the area, where mass was in progress in a packed church. Although the building is fairly new, a congregation was worshiping in this place long before the time of the Portuguese. Some claim the community dates from the 8th century CE.

Another Catholic church is almost directly across the river, because there are enough people for a full congregation on each side.

The bus had not gone far when we came by a rice field that had just been drained in preparation for planting. The field was covered with hundreds of white egrets, as well as some other bird, feasting on small fish, worms, and insects left exposed in the mud.

It seemed that we were never out of urban area all the way to Kochi. The road was lined with stores and restaurants, specialty shops and car dealers (one was named “Johns Honda” — a long-lost relative?).

We entered the city proper by crossing the very long river bridge, revealing that while the old city — Portuguese Fort Kochi — was built on the mainland, the city today has expanded over many nearby islands, as well as a large mainland area.

Because we arrived too early to check into the hotel, we set out immediately on a walking tour of old Fort Kochi. We saw the restored jail, next to the current police station, where suspected independence revolutionaries were held by the British. Also in the neighborhood is St. Francis Church, another Catholic congregation dating back to the 16th century CE.

After walking past some of the nearby shops and restaurants, we met our bus for a short drive to “The Dutch Palace” of Kochi. This was the home of local royalty, but it was built in the 18th century, copying the Dutch style. It is most famous for murals on the wall depicting a major Hindu saga. Unfortunately, photos were not allowed.

Just around the corner from the palace is the old Jewish quarter (still called, unapologetically, “Jewtown” — a name that would never apply in the West. Once a thriving community, there are now so few Jews left that there is no long a minion, unless the balance can be made up by tourists.

From here on we had the day to ourselves until 4:30 (nap time for most), In late afternoon we gathered just a short block down the street from the hotel to view yet another dance performance. This one was quite unique, however. We arrived early, as the makeup artist was still working on preparing the performers. Both performers were male, but one was in drag. The male male was made up in green.

It was probably more of an opera than a dance, although the singing was done by one of the musicians, rather than by the on-stage performers. The vocal was a narrative of part of a famous story about god Rama engaged in a battle with demons, assisted by the monkey god, to rescue the wife of a king who had been kidnapped and taken to Sri Lanka.

The story is an epic, and required three nights of multi-hour performances to perform in entirety. I had trouble staying awake for a half hour, although the costumes and makeup were pretty amazing.

After this, Mary and I walked along the beach for a bit. It was primarily people watching, as the entire area was packed with people of all sorts on their Sunday evening outing. No one was swimming, though a few waded into the water up to their knees, but the beach was teaming with people.

We returned to the hotel to get ready for the “Farewell Dinner,” which is being held a day early due to flight schedules. Our tour leader had some food prepared with more spices to satisfy the few of us who were complaining about how bland the meals had become. We noticed that he, too, sat at the spicy end of the table.