Going to Munnar

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Our plan was to stay for five days in Kochi and then head up to Munnar where we would stay for four days. Munnar is in many ways different to Kochi. Whereas Kochi is situated at sea level Munnar is 1500 metres above sea level. Consequently, the weather is a lot cooler in Munnar. In December, for instance, they will occasionally get night frost.

On our second day in Kochi we went to the state bus station to book tickets for the 5 hour bus journey. Apparently, the bus journey is a classic in Kerala and most travel books recommend it. Though all bus drivers in Kerala drive as if they want their passengers to succumb, either through a heart attack or a crash, the state buses are usually recommended over private buses. Statistically, private buses are a lot less safe. However, as we would later experience, when leaving Munnar, they are a lot more comfortable.

When we arrived at the bus station we were told that for this particular route it wasn't possible to pre-book tickets. Never mind, we got to see the place and got ourselves an umbrella instead.

On the day of departure it was our plan to get up at 4.30 in the morning to catch the 6.30 bus from Ernakulam to Munnar. However, when we went to bed it was chucking it down. When the alarm went off it was chucking it down. Rain in Kerala is not like rain in the UK. It is the kind of rain that will soak through you in one minute if you are not adequately protected. Even though we have packed a couple of “monsoon ponchos”, which would provide adequate rain cover, we didn't really fancy the idea of getting into the the streets of Ernakulam, and into a potentially dangerous and dilapidated, windowless state bus going up into the hills on windy, wet roads. We therefore had to execute plan B.

When we were guided around Fort Kochi, Jithu recommended that we use a private bus from Gandhi Square leaving at 11.30. Ideally, we would have liked to get off early to get as much as possible out of Munnar before the day ended, and 11.30 was a rather late departure. Still, it was plan B. When we got into the taxi from the hotel, the taxi driver insisted that there was no private bus from there at this time of day. In fact, there were no private buses from Gandhi Square at all. He even used his mobile phone to contact someone, presumably an expert in this field, who told us that the only private bus left at 4.30; we couldn't quite determine whether it was am or pm. Anyway, we had a decision to make. We could either insist on being taken to Gandhi Square to, potentially, wait for a non-existent bus, or we could execute plan C. Plan C was to get the last state bus from the state bus station at 12.00. The problem with sticking with plan B was that it wouldn't leave us enough time to get to the state bus station to catch the 12.00 bus should the private bus not turn up. We decided to abandon plan B and head for the state bus station.

As we pulled into the station at 11.03 the taxi driver pointed at a departing bus and said “Look, bus for Munnar!” He screeched to a halt and leapt from the taxi and ran in front of the departing bus and flagged it down. Meanwhile, we staggered out of the taxi with our rucksacks, and thankfully the bus driver turned out to be a friendly middle aged chap who didn't mind waiting. Due to the hurried departure we ended up overpaying the taxi driver. But at least we didn't have to wait for another hour for the 12.00 bus. We had caught the 11.00 bus.

Though the bus wasn't full, the best seats were, obviously, already taken. Mort is 6.2 which in Europe isn't particularly tall, but it is India. In an Indian bus it is gigantic. And, predictably, we got the double seat on top of the wheel arch. For five hours. Apart from the seized up legs and ruptured bladders the journey was worth it.

For the first two hours the bus went through flat land and small villages and towns. Even though the driver was middle aged and had looked like a calm man waiting to enjoy his pension he didn't drive like that. The pace was extreme and some of the overtaking manoeuvres, three cars side by side, seemed haphazard. Also, it is important to remember that state buses are ancient. At one of the 10 minute breaks we checked the tyres of the bus. A quality tyre has some sort of tread left. The tyres on this bus didn't. Not only was there no tread left but the original tyre had an extra layer of rubber glued to it because the tyre was worn to an extent where it was dangerous to use. And the extra layer of rubber had no tread. The use of extra rubber was common in the UK decades ago, but is probably illegal now. The state of the tyres didn't slow the bus down though.

The scenery en route is very pleasing to the eye. As you go up the hills the vegetation starts to change; the coconut trees disappear and are replaced by evergreen and semi-evergreen forests and later tea plantations.
Halfway up, the already crowded bus received a large number of new passengers. A state bus in front had broken down.
Finally, we reached Munnar. The last hour had been rather painful. Not only were all leg joints now locked in squatting position, but Sarah had got semi-drenched from the heavy rain showers that were frequent during the last hour of the journey. But we arrived safely in a rather damp, but sunny Munnar. We checked into Poopada, which somehow has managed to be recommended in Rough Guide. We only referred to it as Pookaka, The view from our balcony over Old Munnar was, ignoring the electricity lines, nice enough.
After getting over our depression of going from Rs. 1300 of luxury to a Rs. 900 hovel (and a difference of Rs. 400 doesn't justify a difference in quality of such a magnitude), we walked into Old Munnar to get some cigarettes (oh dear, and Mort thought going to India was the perfect opportunity to pack in smoking) and food. We spotted this happy threesome. The boys are not gay or owt; it is very common in Kerala for males of all ages to touch each other and hold hands.

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This entry was posted by pundabee, on Wednesday, November 22, 2006. You can leave your response.