Munnar days

One thing that I have discovered over the last few months is that traveling provides you with everything you require emotionally at exactly the right time, even when you don’t realize that you need or are looking for anything specific. I have been really lucky over the past few months. After (mostly) conquering my fear of the alone, I have learnt to appreciate the times of solitude and to enjoy and savour the time I do spend with people, knowing that eventually I will continue on my way as the lone traveller. Surprisingly I have never felt lonely when traveling by myself, and I have never been in the situation where I craved company and couldn’t find it. Whether in the form of random conversations with the people sitting at the table next to me in a restaurant, or an encounter on the street or in a shop, if you’re open to it, there is no lack of quality human contact available.

What I have seen, and it continues to amaze me, is that somehow I find people, or people find me, even at the times when I don’t realize how much I am craving the comfort and reassurance of company, or of familiar faces. My friend Sarah, a fellow traveller, arrived in Rishikesh on the same day that I arrived there, a total coincidence and one that helped make my first few days of real solo travel (after I stopped traveling with the Argentinian boys) a lot easier. Amazingly enough, she also showed up in Varkala, exactly on the day that I had become so frustrated with my Ayurveda treatments and had started thinking of quitting. Sitting at a random café that Saturday night, debating what to do, I suddenly heard a South African accent coming from the table behind me. I turned around, and there she was. Neither of us knew that the other was in Varkala, yet somehow we were both in the same place and happened to choose the same café at the same time.

Whenever I have craved the familiarity of home, be it the need to speak/hear Hebrew, or to find myself a Shabbat meal, opportunities have always arisen. Running into Israeli friends from Nepal on the ghats in Varanasi, ending up at an intimate dinner party in Unawatuna with six other Australian Jews, totally by chance, meeting up with arandom Israeli backpacker at the youth hostel in Kandy, somehow those small comforts seem to find me wherever I go.

My encounter in Munnar last week was the same, meeting up with people at a time when, only in retrospect, I realized that it was something I really needed. After two weeks in Varkala when I was mainly by myself, and a few days in Thekkady, I took myself off to Munnar for a few days on my way to Kochi, my final destination on the Indian part of my trip, assuming I would be alone until I landed in Thailand. I arrived in Munnar with no accommodation, the first time since I started traveling alone that I’d had the courage to go somewhere without pre-booking a guesthouse. Arriving smack into the bustle of Munnar town, I had no idea where to go, so I hopped into a rickshaw with a Belgian couple who were heading to Old Munnar in search of the backpacker guesthouses. After checking out a very unsuitable room, I walked out onto the street to continue my search and all of a sudden, I heard my first Hebrew in two weeks. I ran up to the two people walking towards me on the street and asked them whether they had a guesthouse to recommend. I ended up traveling with them for my entire last week in India.

Munnar was a dream, breathtaking views, laughs and experiences. A few of us, a young couple just out of the army, the two people I’d run into on the street and myself, ended up as a fivesome, chilling, eating together every day, and hiring tuk-tuks to explore the incredible sights around Munnar. While it was hard for me to adjust to being with people again, I had enough freedom that I was able to enjoy the togetherness without feeling like I’d given up my independence. It was actually the ideal scenario for me, sociable, but with no obligations to anyone, and it was definitely way more fun to be with a group than it would have been if I was on my own.

Being in a group saved me from a potentially problematic situation and created a hilariously bizarre one at the same time. On my first full day in Munnar, a young Indian guy from Madurai arrived at our hotel alone for a weekend stay. He stopped me on the stairs to say hi and took a particular interest which, of course, made me slightly (very) wary. Later that night, he came to speak to us and offered the three of us who were staying at the hotel a rather large amount of weed for free, as long as we would smoke a joint with him. Never people to say no, the weed was transferred to our possession and he joined us on the roof for a smoke. Clearly drunk and very high, my friends were worried that he would try to follow me to my room, so they created a reason for me to come down to their room with them, and we said goodnight. We went downstairs to chill for a while, eventually joined by the other two members of our little group.

At midnight, there was a knock at the door and I opened it to see who it was. The Indian guy, forever to be known as “Indian weirdo”, had come looking for another joint, which, for various reasons, wasn’t an option at that time. When he realized it wasn’t possible, instead of saying goodnight and leaving, he forced himself into the tiny room we were all crammed into and just stood there, leaning against the door. After a few minutes of attempted conversation, not really having much to say to him, and not knowing how to ask him to leave without being rude, we decided to continue our conversations from before, lapsing back into Hebrew and hoping that he would understand that this was his cue to leave. We felt sorry for him, he was clearly looking for company, but it was late and the language barrier was too great. Apparently the non-verbal hints were also lost on him, because he didn’t take the hint. He stayed, and he stayed, and he stayed even more. He stood there, in the same position, leaning against the door, for over an hour, almost an hour and a half, not saying a word. It was uncomfortable, and then it became excruciating, and when it passed the highest levels of excruciating, it became hysterical. Much later, after we’d already almost forgotten he was there, so silent and standing by the door, we heard a voice say, “I’m tired, I think I’ll go to bed now, and I don’t understand what you’re saying anyway.”

We’re all still wondering what made him choose that moment to declare that he didn’t understand when clearly he hadn’t understood for over an hour. Was it Indian politeness? A fascination with foreigners? Or maybe just a lack of social awareness? Whatever it was, it kept us entertained for hours after. We will be forever grateful for the free weed, and forever perplexed by his behaviour.

On Friday night we decided we would go out for a special Friday night dinner in Munnar town in honour of Shabbat. The three of us were staying at the far end of a long line of guesthouses and as we walked out and along the street towards the main road, we saw people starting to come out of the guesthouses in front of us. Hearing them speak Hebrew, we greeted them with ‘Shabbat shalom” and kept walking, the newcomers joining our little procession. Each guesthouse we passed saw more people being added to the entourage, until eventually there was a huge group of Israelis on the main road, ready to go for Shabbat dinner. It was a surreal experience, and we looked around at everyone who was there, thinking that if we managed to find a place for all of us to sit together, that it would probably be the biggest Shabbat meal for Israelis ever outside of a Chabad House in India. Of course the Indian dhabbas couldn’t accommodate everyone, and our fivesome remained together for one of the most filling and decadent dinners any of us had had during our travels in India. It was a delicious meal, and we staggered out into the street afterwards, clutching our stomachs and feeling that we had done our Yiddische mamas proud.

Our little group stayed together for a few days in Munnar and then headed to Kochi, where we enjoyed the European atmosphere of Fort Kochi for a few days before splitting up and going our separate ways, me to Thailand, Ron and Tomer to Sri Lanka, and Aviv and Yael to continue their travels in Kerala. Our time together wasn’t all roses, nothing ever is, with a few uncomfortable moments for me here and there, as well as an unfortunate incident in Kochi with a gluten-heavy restaurant selection (not chosen by my travel partners) which left me in an awkward position and a foul mood. A few hours, a manicure and many Quality Streets chocolates later, I emerged refreshed (relatively), with new insights, a new box for my electronic wires (thanks Quality Streets!) and a better understanding of why I responded the way I did, and how to reconcile being an independent traveller, with occasionally being part of a group. We were only together for a week, but it felt like so much more. As a group, I feel like we gelled better than I have with most of my travel partners until now. I miss them all, and look forward to meeting up with them again back in Israel.

In the meantime, the time period affectionately known as “Munnar days” lives on in our whatsapp group and in the strange coincidences that always emerge while traveling. Tonight at Chabad in Bangkok, at the Tu Bishvat gathering (New Year for the trees, celebrated by eating a lot of fruit), I randomly sat next to a fellow traveller and struck up a conversation. Chatting to her, I noticed her using some Hebrew expressions that I’d never heard of until last week, expressions picked up by Aviv and Yael from fellow travellers during their time in Tamil Nadu. Noting the coincidence I started asking her about her last movements, and we discovered, to both our delight, that she had been traveling with Yael and Aviv in the weeks before I met up with them in Munnar. A happy coincidence, and definitely a significant one, as I may now be joining her and her boyfriend when they head up to north Thailand in a few days, and potentially move onwards with them to Laos.

Looking back at all my “happy coincidences”, I’m starting to view them as gifts, rather than random occurrences, gifts which I can choose to use and interpret as I wish. These gifts help guide me through my travels, keeping me safe, optimistic and grounded, even at times when I’m unaware that I need them. I appreciate them and trust in them and hope that they continue to surprise me and nurture me for the remainder of my trip, and onwards into whatever the future has in store for me.