Trip to Wayanad, Kerala- 1

Preface:

The author of this post is someone other than the owner of the blog, and currently has nothing better to do than write this. You may proceed only if you are seriously jobless. In case you are reading this from your office PC then better have a random excel sheet open in front of you just in case the boss walks in.. If you are reading this from your home PC then you should have a few Sylvia Saint pics open in another window. If you are asking yourself why Sylvia Saint, then let me tell you it is for no reason after all. Jenna Jameson would do just fine..

Now that you have had that valuable info, lets get down to the actual trip.

We left Bangalore on Friday the 30^th of June. The idea communicated to everyone was that the cab would be ready at 7 am sharp. But then if you are a member of our gang or just like any 23 yr old single sleep loving bozo knows, a 7 am start for a trip is never going to be a reality.

All the guys assembled at our man Slum’s place at about 10:30. Again if you are wondering why this guy is named Slum, then I’m not going to tell you because that’s not what this post is about. I know I’m beginning to get on your nerves already but then you have no choice but to read on. Go on catch a quick glimpse of Sylvia if you really want.

A brief mention about the cab and our driver here. This qualis of ours had the stereo broken for some unknown reason and so we had to make do with Jamoon Jocko’s walkman phone for all our music needs. Jamoon by the way truly lived up to his name by not bringing his charger along, so was cribbing all the way that he’d run out of battery. Why would someone buy a fancy walkman phone, bring it to a 3 day trip and yet forget his charger is a little beyond me. Anyway the driver tried to get the stereo repaired but to no success. This driver of ours was a gazillion times better than the one who drove us to Kemmangundi a few months before. The kemmangundi driver was a real piece of work, one who ate more than us, drank more booze, played the crappiest music, and worse of all, had all the lousiest PJ’s by heart. Our Waynad driver was quite the opposite. He must’ve uttered some ten words all through the trip. A thousand thanks to him for that. May all his kids and grandkids grow up to be excellent drivers like him.

We left Bangalore at about 10:45 or such, proceeding towards Mysore road. The drive was very good to start off and was pretty nice all the way. We made a brief “tiffin” stop at Bidadi to fill up on some heavenly “Tatte Idli’s” and Vada. It never really matter even if you’ve had a heavy breakfast at home, a stop at Bidadi is simply compulsory each time you go through Mysore road. I must say I’ve never tasted better idli’s anywhere else till date. One thing I noticed in Bidadi was that there was about 5 shops which had the same “Renuka Tiffins” as the name. The Renuka tatte idli is a famous name I realized then. I guess the first shop you see to your right when you come from B’lore is the original. After a wholesome breakfast we proceeded again. The Mysore-Bangalore road I must say is very well done now. Except for a few stretches in Mandya and Ramanagaram, the repairs are complete and I’m sure in about a year or so a 2 hr drive to Mysore can be a reality. The BMIC will be ready by the time I have grandkids, so don’t have any dreams about that.

We reached Mysore some 3 hrs later, proceeded towards the Mysore Ooty highway. We had to take a right at Gundlupet and get on the Calicut road. We took a lunch stop at a place called the Kaveri International hotel. There was nothing international about this place, just a normal Lodge n restaurant which looked so deserted that I’m sure just a few street dogs used the lodge. The good thing was that there was a bar attached and we got a quick drink in just to get warmed up. The food was not really very good, although the price was pretty high.

The road was very nice, hardly any traffic and with some lush green sunflower field to provide scenery.

The dude in the pic is “Pyro-Hydro Jocko” named that because of his affinity towards starting fires wherever and jumping into a water-bodies.

We had to cross the Bandipur forest on the way and it was awesome. Hardly any traffic, thick forest cover on both sides of the read with trees completely covering the road like a canopy.

I guess either Pyro is the most photogenic of all of us, or the cameraman Marthas has a special love towards him, hence the same guy in two pics.

As we moved on, there was a bit of a traffic block on the road, on closer inspection, we saw a crane lifting up a maruti 800 that had veered off the highway and crashed into a ditch.

The vehicle was pretty banged up as you can see and I didn’t think the driver would survive, but then we saw a dark thin dude with bandages all over his face and a rather morose look. So the driver probably survived. Fine opportunity for our driver to profess on road safety on wet highways. Thankfully that lasted only a few minutes and we moved on.

We were a little concerned about the customs check at the Kerala border cos we’d been carrying an almost full bottle of Chivas Regal Scotch with us. Had it come to the scotch being confiscated, I think we would’ve drunk up that entire bottle then n there, even if it meant puking on the cop there itself.

One of the principles that the Red-Blood-Boys live by is to never ever waste any alcohol. Thankfully it never was a problem. Customs was a breeze.

“Jai Chivas”.

The Red Blood boys, by the way was a cult born in the hallowed corridors of MES KK and now carried forward by the owner of this blog along with the other Jockos.

We moved into picturesque Kerala, with lungis and Mohanlal billboards greeting us in to Mallu land. Mohanlal and Mamooty are real big shots in Kerala and to this day I can’t tell them apart. Put a lungi and a veshti on their rather large bellies, slap a big fur ball for a mooch and they look like identical twins. This is something I’ve observed about all south Indian film heroes (some heroines as well ! ) They just can’t seem to get into the slim, trim, good-looking mould down south. For every Mohanlal and Mamooty, we have people like RaviChandran in Kannada and the legendary Gaptain VijayKanth in Tamil.

Atleast the Hindi heroes are more presentable, no offence to “Jamoon Jocko a.k.a Ranga a.k.a Kannadada Kanva”.

We entered a town called Sulthan Batheri and checked out some very very pretty lady school-teachers on the way. Somehow the one single thought running through all of our minds at the time was “ SHAKEELA”. Dirty minds breed dirty thoughts you see.

We were supposed to stay at this place called Sun Valley Resorts, opposite Pookot Lake and went about finding it. None of us knew any Mallu, so finding our way was a litlle challenging to say the least. There is a very weird thing about asking directions to a mallu. Each time we pulled over and asked a cabbie or a rickshaw driver for directions, he would give us a blank “ are-you-from-Pluto “ look We would have to repeat Pookot lake thrice followed by a question mark hand signal for him to comprehend what’s going on. This was not just in SulthanBatheri but right throughout our stay in Kerala, the same routine would repeat. Pull over, ask someone for directions, get the most blank dumbass expression, then repeat the name of the place three times, and only then we would be on our way.

Pookot lake we later saw wasn’t much of a big deal really, just a big pond filled with dirty rain water. A little further we found Sun Valley Resorts. When anyone thinks of “Resorts”, one would imagine a big pool, bar n restaurant, lots of greenery, maybe even a tennis/volleyball court. Big Mistake. Our resort didn’t even have a name plate outside to claim identity. We had to run down, wake up one of the 2 guys snoozing in the reception and repeat the same routine described in the paragraph above. This time there was a difference however, the guy looking after the place, had this habit of repeating everything he said three times. The conversation went something like this.

Us: Sun Valley Resort ? ( followed by a finger pointed at him followed by a question mark hand signal)

Him: Yes,yes,yes, this only Sun Valley Resort this only Sun Valley Resort.

Us: Ok. Rooms ??

Him: Yes,yes,yes, hands over a little brochure showing room rates.

One room for a day costed about 1200 bucks, for a place that had only a reception hall, about 6 rooms in all, no kitchen or cook. There was no other suitable place we know at the time so we got to negotiating.

Us: One room, 1200 rupees (pause) too much ( followed by extravagant shake of the hand).

Him: What saar, only 1200 rupees, only 1200 rupees, only 1200 rupees.

Us: Three rooms, 700 Rs each, one extra bed.

Him: No No no. 3-rooms-1000-Rs-no extra bed, 3-rooms-1000Rs-no extra bed.

Our turn to give him the “are-you-from-Pluto” look

He finally agreed for 750 bucks, three rooms with cable tv in each room. It was late evening, so we set about making dinner plans, i.e booze plans. Slum n turka went to get food while the rest of us went for a short walk.

That’s Pyro Jocko, Jamoon, Charlie and DD from left.

The walk didn’t last too long, it started raining again and we headed back. We found a dead snake which fascinated pyro for some inexplicable reason. Then there was a rather long wait for the guys to return with food. Time was spent with Marthas giving people a glimpse of his potty habits and other such pointless activities.

Food arrived, booze was there, and the Q/F between Argentina and Germany started. In short, THE PERFECT LIFE for about 2 hrs atleast. Yours truly was backing Argentina along with Pyro, who did so just because Slum was rooting for Germany. All other were backing the hosts I think. In the end Arg lost in penalties and we were jumping around alternately shouting abuses like there was no tomorrow after each goal was scored. I started to realize then that Football and alcohol was a heavenly combination. It was a good thing that there was no one else in the lodge at the time barring us.

“Jai Chivas” again..

The booze was emptied in much merriment and there were no “Omlette” incidents, probably because our Capacity King Jamoon Jocko, who is always first to present a dosa, had only about 60 ml.

No description of Kerala is complete without coconut oil. There is one rule to be followed when in Mallu land. “If you don’t like coconut oil, then you don’t eat”. There seems to be a mind-boggling abundance of coconut oil in these regions and so it is used for everything. I doubt if mallus use any water for cooking, only coconut oil. The French fries and chilly paneer looked like a heart attack served on a late. If you squeezed out the oil from the fries, it would’ve been enough oil to fill up Pookot lake I’m sure.

After the bottle was emptied and most of the food wasted, we called it a day.