The Land of Dreams. Review on Thekkady

It was near the end of November. I walked out of Kochi airport into the sweltering noonday heat to find Sabu, driving a white Mitsubishi, waiting to drive me up into the hills towards Spice Village. Sabu was a nice guy, but his English wasn?t so hot, and my Malayalam is nonexistent (come to think of it, so are my Hindi and Gujarati). We drove through the flatlands?miles of pineapple, rice, and banana plantations?over bumpy, pothole-filled roads.

Sabu would occasionally make some remark about this temple or that Catholic church (including a 20-foot tall facsimile of the Pieta. I was too busy watching the truck heading for us with a heavy load of coconuts, but somehow at the last minute we always survived.

The road began to rise a little, and in the shade of a stand of rubber trees, we stopped at a roadside stand where a boy was selling pineapples. Eight rupees, fresh from the field, peeled, delicious. Sabu sprinkled hot peppers on his, but I decided to just go al fresco. Back in the car, we were climbing in earnest, and ahead I saw mountains covered with coconut palms, herds of water buffalo heading down to market, small tea stands, temple weddings?amazing colors, aromas, visions of foggy hills.

Higher now, the tea plantations, symmetrical orchards with ancient plantation houses, a group of monks in saffron robes in sharp relief against the neon green of the tea rows. Away across the valleys marched, rank upon rank, the misty mountains against the setting sun, and, impossibly distant, I thought I discerned a glint of the sparkling sea.

Finally, just before dark, Thekkady.

Spice Village, a Casino Group hotel, is made for relaxation, not entertainment. There are no televisions, no game rooms, no movie stars. There is a swimming pool, however, but the cool November night wasn?t ripe for swimming, except, perhaps, for polar bears. Guests are assigned thatch-roofed cottages that have very little in the way of luxury?bare, almost like monastic cells, with tiled floors and plain whitewashed walls. There is a small front porch with plain wooden chairs from which one can actually see the stars and the fireflies lighting up the night. I sat and lit a cigarette and was truly happy.

Later I wandered through the clusters of cottages towards the great big thatch roofed cottage that is the restaurant. There is a large verandah overlooking the pool, and everything is done buffet-style. And what a buffet! Keralan fish curries, prawns, vindaloo vegetables, aloo gobi, a dozen chutneys and condiments, a whole table devoted to Ayurvedic health foods. Fresh-squeezed pineapple and orange juices. Some alcoholic concoction called the Green Crocodile. I grabbed a plateful and headed back to the verandah. A group of guinea hens were out on the lawn, making their unearthly racket as if someone was being slowly and painfully strangled.

The following morning it rained. The bamboo thickets glowed bright green and yellow, and the hibiscus vibrated with a scarlet electricity. We drove a few miles up the road into Periyar National Park. I?d been prepared?I wouldn?t expect to see tigers, since they have been driven so far up into the mountains that even experienced zoologists rarely catch a glimpse. I boarded a rickety old steamer with a tour group from France and we shoved off. For some reason, a Rs. 100 surcharge is collected if you own a video or digital camera, but not a standard SLR. So, I coughed up.

My camera wasn?t powerful enough to capture the wild deer on the shore, or the boars, water buffaloes or kingfishers (the birds, not the beer) that we saw, but I was just content to float along in all the beauty. Periyar has a large manmade lake that is home to a variety of birds and wildlife, but except for the usual varieties (even I can spot a deer when I see one), I was ignorant as to what they were called.

When we returned, it was late in the afternoon, and I got a glimpse of a family of elephants just across from the docks. The trees were filled with monkeys, chattering away and catching food tossed from the tourists. I headed back to the hotel, another great meal, another beautiful?albeit rain-filled?night.

Back in my little apartment in New York, I carry these images?mountains covered with coconut palms, the sun gleaming upon fields of tea, women in turquoise and magenta saris trimmed with gold. And just above the hills, wisps of gossamer mist, the wings of a great, white bird brooding over the enchanted Kingdom of Kerala.