A lot of movement over the past week is making it difficult to recollect my thoughts. I don't have much trouble remembering the sequence of events, so I'll look back and see if anything pops out.
We drive for several hours to reach our next destination up in the mountains of Kerala. The temperature drops significantly and a cool breeze is almost always present. We stay at a hotel located inside a wildlife preservation park, or a tiger reserve as it is commonly called. This sounds really enticing at first, but we soon learn that we're essentially trapped in this area from 6pm until we depart the next day. You can't actually go anywhere without a paid guide (despite paying the entrance fees to the forest service), and there is only about a mile of road to walk on in between gate and preserve entrance. Strangely this makes me feel cagey and a little frustrated. The preserve feels like an amusement park and all of the attractions cost quite a bit more. This place gets a large number of tourists so I completely understand the need to regulate foot traffic and waste, but I can't shake that lingering frustration for a while.
We partake in an early morning nature walk at Periyar. Our guide takes us for a long walk through the preserve and just getting to move freely (after paying, of course) improves my mood significantly. We didn't see anything "as advertised" such as tigers or elephants, but there were some cool features to discover (admittedly most of these would be lost on us without a guide). The cicada are numerous in the trees, and we find ourselves in the thick of their impressively loud stridulation. I can feel the air pulsating in my ear canals and it borders on pain. I can hardly hear our guide speaking anymore so I just smile and nod as we walk along, catching fragments of information. A cool experience overall, but prompted some much needed expectation adjustment. Exploring natural areas in India is far different from what I imagined.
On the following day we travel to one of the most beautiful unnatural areas I've laid eyes on. Our altitude increases even more as we drive into the mountains. Eventually the dense forest all around us recedes to reveal hundreds of square kilometers of tea plants. The terraced hillside seems to proudly display all of these well manicured bushes. Women slowly move between rows on the steep inclines, expertly snipping the young, fresh leaves and storing them in sacks which they then haul on their heads. The tea estates stretch as far as I can see, and that distance is notably greater now that we've left the pollution-ridden cities.
We arrive at our destination, Munnar, a town nestled in a quaint little valley. It's fairly populated, but the people seem to adhere to higher standards of waste management. This is the first place that I've seen different receptacles for trash, plastic, etc. The roadways are lined with anti-litter slogans, some of which are very strongly worded. While littering is illegal, it seems that they don't really impose fines in most areas. Munnar is either stricter about it or the inhabitants are more conscientious. Nonetheless the river in the town center is riddled with trash, but far less than any other place we've visited.
Varun and I take advantage of our free evening and hike up past the engineering college, following a goat path to the top of the hill. I feel much more liberated now that we won't be fined for exploring the area. We take in the view for some time before heading down. It was a nice moment to share with somebody.
The following day consisted of some standard sight-seeing. There are a number of tourist destinations heading up to the water's mountain source which we stop to admire. At each reservoir the water gets cleaner and bluer until I'm looking at a miniature Lake Tahoe. The vegetation is lush and the weather is fantastic. We take some time to walk around each reservoir and soak in the environment. It's beautiful, but I also feel like I'm getting overloaded with "the sights." Even just walking through town, wandering, I feel a little bit more in touch with India than hopping in a car to go to the next place on the list. I'm happy I get to see so much, but I feel the diminishing return.
On the way back down from Echo Point we see a few more wild elephants. A number of cars are stopped to check them out, and forest service officials stand nearby to keep people at a safe distance. Jagadeesh informs us that an elephant recently died from ingesting plastic. So it seems the guards are there to keep the elephants safe. It's hard not to feel misanthropic in this moment, yet what does searching for a scapegoat accomplish. I'm certainly responsible for my own share of death.
I nap the afternoon away before heading out for some solo time. I exit the hotel, turn right, and I don't come back until sunset. This road takes me up into another series of hills covered in tea estates. The view is elating, and I get frustrated with how often I am compelled to stop and take a picture. It's all beautiful! Keep going!
Eventually I decide to head straight up into a tea field, marking my route with cairns as I go. My goal was to get to the nearest peak, but after a while I find myself up against a barrier of dense forest. The forest that likely covered this valley before the tea companies moved in. I take a moment to consider why I find each one so beautiful. The tea bushes are so uniformly arranged that they offer a pleasing symmetry. But the forest is thick and wild, and I can't even find an opening to fight my way in. It's simply not meant for me to enter, not unless I were to damage it. As much as I want to get by, I concede and turn back. Off limits.
Munnar offered a great deal of freedom which I loved, but I am constantly reminded of the cost of displacement. Of course any human settlement seems to displace animal and plant life, but it was really tempting to say this one felt more pastoral, at least compared to recent destinations.
With our India trip winding down, we head to one last tourist spot before parting ways with Jagadeesh. It's another tiger reserve so I dial back my expectations in preparation.
We drive for several hours to reach our next destination up in the mountains of Kerala. The temperature drops significantly and a cool breeze is almost always present. We stay at a hotel located inside a wildlife preservation park, or a tiger reserve as it is commonly called. This sounds really enticing at first, but we soon learn that we're essentially trapped in this area from 6pm until we depart the next day. You can't actually go anywhere without a paid guide (despite paying the entrance fees to the forest service), and there is only about a mile of road to walk on in between gate and preserve entrance. Strangely this makes me feel cagey and a little frustrated. The preserve feels like an amusement park and all of the attractions cost quite a bit more. This place gets a large number of tourists so I completely understand the need to regulate foot traffic and waste, but I can't shake that lingering frustration for a while.
We partake in an early morning nature walk at Periyar. Our guide takes us for a long walk through the preserve and just getting to move freely (after paying, of course) improves my mood significantly. We didn't see anything "as advertised" such as tigers or elephants, but there were some cool features to discover (admittedly most of these would be lost on us without a guide). The cicada are numerous in the trees, and we find ourselves in the thick of their impressively loud stridulation. I can feel the air pulsating in my ear canals and it borders on pain. I can hardly hear our guide speaking anymore so I just smile and nod as we walk along, catching fragments of information. A cool experience overall, but prompted some much needed expectation adjustment. Exploring natural areas in India is far different from what I imagined.
On the following day we travel to one of the most beautiful unnatural areas I've laid eyes on. Our altitude increases even more as we drive into the mountains. Eventually the dense forest all around us recedes to reveal hundreds of square kilometers of tea plants. The terraced hillside seems to proudly display all of these well manicured bushes. Women slowly move between rows on the steep inclines, expertly snipping the young, fresh leaves and storing them in sacks which they then haul on their heads. The tea estates stretch as far as I can see, and that distance is notably greater now that we've left the pollution-ridden cities.
We arrive at our destination, Munnar, a town nestled in a quaint little valley. It's fairly populated, but the people seem to adhere to higher standards of waste management. This is the first place that I've seen different receptacles for trash, plastic, etc. The roadways are lined with anti-litter slogans, some of which are very strongly worded. While littering is illegal, it seems that they don't really impose fines in most areas. Munnar is either stricter about it or the inhabitants are more conscientious. Nonetheless the river in the town center is riddled with trash, but far less than any other place we've visited.
Varun and I take advantage of our free evening and hike up past the engineering college, following a goat path to the top of the hill. I feel much more liberated now that we won't be fined for exploring the area. We take in the view for some time before heading down. It was a nice moment to share with somebody.
The following day consisted of some standard sight-seeing. There are a number of tourist destinations heading up to the water's mountain source which we stop to admire. At each reservoir the water gets cleaner and bluer until I'm looking at a miniature Lake Tahoe. The vegetation is lush and the weather is fantastic. We take some time to walk around each reservoir and soak in the environment. It's beautiful, but I also feel like I'm getting overloaded with "the sights." Even just walking through town, wandering, I feel a little bit more in touch with India than hopping in a car to go to the next place on the list. I'm happy I get to see so much, but I feel the diminishing return.
On the way back down from Echo Point we see a few more wild elephants. A number of cars are stopped to check them out, and forest service officials stand nearby to keep people at a safe distance. Jagadeesh informs us that an elephant recently died from ingesting plastic. So it seems the guards are there to keep the elephants safe. It's hard not to feel misanthropic in this moment, yet what does searching for a scapegoat accomplish. I'm certainly responsible for my own share of death.
I nap the afternoon away before heading out for some solo time. I exit the hotel, turn right, and I don't come back until sunset. This road takes me up into another series of hills covered in tea estates. The view is elating, and I get frustrated with how often I am compelled to stop and take a picture. It's all beautiful! Keep going!
Eventually I decide to head straight up into a tea field, marking my route with cairns as I go. My goal was to get to the nearest peak, but after a while I find myself up against a barrier of dense forest. The forest that likely covered this valley before the tea companies moved in. I take a moment to consider why I find each one so beautiful. The tea bushes are so uniformly arranged that they offer a pleasing symmetry. But the forest is thick and wild, and I can't even find an opening to fight my way in. It's simply not meant for me to enter, not unless I were to damage it. As much as I want to get by, I concede and turn back. Off limits.
Munnar offered a great deal of freedom which I loved, but I am constantly reminded of the cost of displacement. Of course any human settlement seems to displace animal and plant life, but it was really tempting to say this one felt more pastoral, at least compared to recent destinations.
With our India trip winding down, we head to one last tourist spot before parting ways with Jagadeesh. It's another tiger reserve so I dial back my expectations in preparation.
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