Munnar

Munnar is about 150km from Fort Cochi and at 1250m above sea level. The air is distinctly cooler and some Indians are wearing knitted woollen hats and knitted tank tops or cardigans.

About 100m in front of my guest house is a community hall and loud terrible Indian music is being broadcast from there as I check in. It continues until 9 o’clock at night. It was cold at night and although there was a blanket on my bed I added my sleeping bag too.  I was woken in the early morning by the music once more.  It’s driving me mad. Looking out of my window I can see some women and men walking to work. They mostly have bare feet. The women wear knee-length cotton wrapped around their waists and carry sacks. The men have yellow plastic containers on their backs. They are tea workers and apart from beggars they are the poorest collection of people I have seen so far.

When I go down stairs I ask Deepak what the music is for and will it always be playing? He says there is to be a Hindu wedding at the nearby temple in the morning and the music is for that. It will probably go on most of the day.

 I take a walk into town. Munnar is stretched out along a river valley. At my guest house end of town is the poorest row of shops I have yet seen. They are tiny corrugated iron huts with unreadable signs above. One has a reasonable display of fruit and vegetables outside. Others have their front hatches open, but it is hard to make out what they are selling without going over and peering in. Other are closed.

Looking down into the river valley there is a group of 5 men digging sand from the river side and putting it into sacks. On the far side of the river, nestled into the hill are a couple of rows of picturesque houses with washing outside. I don’t suppose living there would feel very picturesque.

In the main town square its rickshaw and taxi central, but surprisingly I don’t get much hassle. I walk along to the market. There are outdoor stalls selling fruit and vegetables and fish. I buy a mango and some tomatoes and talk to the stall-holder about some of the fruits I don’t recognise. He breaks open a tree tomato and custard apple for me to try. I buy a couple even though I’m not that keen. The tree tomatoes are rather sour and the custard apple full of big black seeds. Perhaps I’ll learn to love them. Further on are other stalls - some selling fish.

Fish stalls

 A stall is selling flower heads and the man is carefully threading them onto cotton.

Flower stall

One stall is selling baskets of carefully laid out leaves. I ask the man what they are and he says betel leaves for chewing.

Betel leaf stall

The walkway leads into an indoor market which is almost exclusively vegetable stalls. The stalls are piled high with beautiful-looking  vegetables. There don’t seem to be many people buying. Perhaps it is a bit early yet, but I wonder how they can sell so much of the same kinds of things.

Indoor vegetable stalls

Outside a lorry is being unloaded and men carry sacks of vegetables inside.  sack of carrots is spilt in the road.

Vegetable delivery

On the other side of the road are some more general market shops – household goods, mattresses, chemist etc. I go into one shop selling material. The shop is lined with shelves full of neatly packed and folded material. I talk to the man about saris. There is a whole section of Keralan sari material. They are made of cotton and range in price from 400-4000 rupees (about £5 to £50) depending on the quality of the cotton and the intricacy of the gold embroidery. The most expensive one has patterns of elephants and peacocks on. He brings me a cup of tea. It is sweet and very milky. I would like to buy some sari material, but I have to think about how to get it home and there doesn’t seem to be a post office in town.

Market shops

Part of the town including a large Hindu temple is on the other side of the river. There are several bridges across the river.

I look for the tourist information office. I can find the sign, but not the office. I wander up the lst couple of side streets. At the top of one is a strange-looking place with a queue of men inside buying something that gets wrapped in newspaper. When I look again more carefully I see the sign above the shop says, ‘Government Brandy Shop’ and a sign at the front says, ‘Alcohol consumption is dangerous to health’.

Brandy shop

Further down the street water is running out of a pipe and men are washing their cars there. One man is also cleaning his teeth.

Car wash

I go into a café and order a ginger tea. I feel I need something to settle my stomach but when it comes it is the same sweet milky concoction. Two other large tables are full of Indian men eating bowls of some sort of curry. Perhaps this is breakfast. It is 10.30am.