When we arrive in Ernakulam, we don’t have any particular plan in mind.
All we have in mind is not remaining in the city. As the overnight train pulls
into Kerala early in the morning, we trawl through our lonely planet
guidebook in search of a place to escape the chaos and heat. For a long time, I
have swooned over beautiful landscapes filled with luscious green as far as the
eye can see. So when the guide promises beautiful home stays with kilometers
upon kilometers of luscious tea plantations, we know we have found our next
destination. The Munnar Hills. After a call to Anil, our home stay host, we
make our way from one station to the other.
Munnar sits 1600m above sea level – a town and a hill station in the
southwest of Kerala. Like all the other worthwhile things in India, a long, hot
and death-defying bus trip stood between Munnar and us. Anil organizes for us
to be dropped at a point, and from there we will be taken by a tuk-tuk to the
home. What Anil didn’t know was that there was a roadblock of one of only two
roads going into town. Luckily, we plan to meet the driver at the route that
was blocked off! Wait…
I give my rapidly dying phone to a lady with a child on her lap and
listen to her speak away to Anil, she nods, hangs up and hands the phone
back with a smile. “So, what’s the game plan lady?”. She explains in broken
English that she will tell us when to get off. This is, however, before being
bombarded with school children boarding the bus and watching as she disappears
from view. After a slight panic foreseeing an eternity on the bus with a dead
phone, we reach the first sign of civilization since Ernakulam and get a
distant nod from our friend to get off the bus.
We clamber through the chattering school children, and watch the bus
disappear out of sight as I watch my phone screen go blank. And in that
moment we hope more than anything that there is a reliable tuk-tuk driver
being sent our way. We kill time by buying much needed soap and washing
powder sachets before walking back out onto the road. We figure the tuk-tuk
driver will probably spot the only confused looking westerners with backpacks.
After all, if everyone else is staring at us it was only a matter of time
before the tuk-tuk driver joins them.
The tuk-tuk trip is bumpy and full of traffic as a result of the roadblock.
As we move towards our location, the images from our guide begin rolling out in
front of us. Lush greens, rolling mountains and tea plantations as far as the
eye can see. In that moment we fall in love with Munnar Hills.
We spend four luxurious days with Anil and Jeeva at Royal Mist; a homestay
nestled in the Tea Plantations. On arrival, we are shown our room whilst tea
and biscuits are delivered to the balcony overlooking the lush wildlife. We
shower properly for the first time in weeks, with strong pressure and steaming
hot water before dinner is delivered to our room. We lie out on our bed - room
service in hand and Sochi Olympics on the television. We decide that this is in
fact what heaven feels like, and we devour dinner and commentate the ice-skating
before falling heavily to sleep.
The days in Munnar are slow and luxurious, with all our meals prepared by
Jeeva – huge meals of curry, nan bread, tea and fresh juices. In the evenings
we walk with Anil as he talks us through the surrounding flora and fauna, and
we pick beans and spices straight off the trees as he explains what they are
and how they are processed. We spend afternoons with an older English couple on
the balcony listening to their incredibly interesting stories of their lives and
laughing until our sides hurt. We walk amongst the tea plantations, and watch
as the fiery reds of the sun meets with the ocean of green leaves and
disappears from sight.
Our highlight is a trip to a tea plantation, a tour highly recommended and
in no way disappointing. We are collected early by a tuk-tuk driver who
proceeds to drive us for over an hour in a bumpy rickshaw around windy terrain.
When we finally arrive, true to my form, I can’t feel my legs and am forcibly
ill before we even begin the tour. Ladies and gentlemen, tuk-tuk trips like
this do not combine with large breakfasts. Take note.
We meet the others on the tour and are greeted by a friendly, fast-talking Indian
man. He hands us all large wicker baskets, explaining this is what the tea is
put in after it is picked. We will be picking our own tea, a task done by
locals all day every day. They fill baskets with kilograms of tea, being paid
just 1 rupee ($0.018 AUD) for
every extra kilo picked above their daily requirement. We realize that this is
not easy work, as we stand in the mid day sun for an hour or so and manage to
fill not even half our baskets. One can’t help but be slightly embarrassed.
Our minds are blown as we move into the factory and are told that, in fact,
all tea is the same plant. Yes, all tea. Green, black, vanilla – all the green
trees I had spent the last few days frolicking through. The only difference?
Treatment and processing.
Lunch is held atop a hill in luxury accommodation that makes everyone in
the group feel inferior. We slip into one of the four hotel rooms on a trip to the
bathroom, and stand in awe of the beautifully furnished rooms with large glass
windows overlooking the plantations. The dining room is laced with chandeliers
and fresh flowers, the food never-ending and cooked to perfection. We gorge
ourselves before being taken into a small room and beginning the usual Indian
after meal tradition: locals attempting to sell you something you don’t want or
need.
“This is the tea that you will receive as part of your cost” the tour guide
sifts tea through his fingers and smiles.
“I will go and get the bags”. He exits the room and we are all left
together looking confused.
“Bags!?”
The tour guide soon returns with a few kilos of tea to be split between the
group of us, leaving us all with about a kilogram of tea each. After we all
explain that we are travelling and can’t take that much extra weight in our
backpacks (or even get any tea into the country in the case of Australia), the
now unhappy tour guide agrees that we don’t have to take it and subtracts it
from our costs.
We return to the Royal Mist to be greeted by Anil, Jeeva and tea and biscuits.
We sit out on the balcony for our final night and talk about our trip, our home
countries and Anil and Jeeva’s future plans for their business. There is a
sadness to be leaving such an amazing place and such warm and loving people.
We wake early to a final breakfast, in which Anil and Jeeva check
everything was to standard and we assure them the time was nothing short of
perfect. We thank them for everything and wave from the tuk-tuk as they slip
out of sight and we wind our way back down the hill to the next chapter of the
South.
