… extreme sport bus travel
I had read in that infamous guidebook about a style of ritual dance-performance, Theyam. This led me from Madikeri to Kannur in northern Kerala, apparently the hub of Theyam activity..I had been wanting to get another dose of Kerala since the beautiful morning train journey from Chennai, and the Theyam seemed like a beautiful, mad, and intriguing form of ritual. It seemed like it should be a straightforward journey…
In theory, it is an hour to Virajpet from Madikeri, and from here run all the buses from Karnataka to Kerala.. Leaving Madikeri, I am still in two minds, still also a bit stressed from any fallout from the damage to the motor bike… but the first bus I walk past is bound for Virajpet. I’m on, and kiss Madikeri goodbye. This is an intense ride through a very very dodgy ‘national highway’ … a solid looking road on the map, but steep, sided with virgin forest.
I contemplate a new extreme sport. Try that trip after a greasy puri meal. Two greasy puris … and a few Kingfisher, and some local brandy …. I am definitely content that I had a light breakfast. I’m a little bit uncertain even about the dosa. This is an old bus, and it has had the crap beaten out of it. Third or more refit on what passed for suspension. A lot of the time we are doing 5kmh around heavily rutted hairpin bends. Glad I’ve got a seat. Even a hard bench. Sometimes you find a rhythm to it, and you can hold yourself in place without being thrown about and your arms torn from their sockets. About half way in distance, and three quarters of the journey, we pass a small rubber plantation and kiosk. Break for toilet and coconut. The next 45 minutes are challenging to a heavily loaded stomach, but easy after the mornings stretch.
Virajpet is a small town with not much of a bus stand, after getting put down by the extreme sport state bus, I wander around, eat at a small bakery, and work out how to get to Kannur. I get a few different stories, but most people agree that the state bus to Kannur is at the corner of the bus stand, but there is a lot of uncertainty about time. I sit down with bananas resolved to wait and ask every bus driver his destination. Kannur is a big town, and as long as my pronounciation isn’t abominable, it won’t be hard to find.
The next bus is a bit more comfortable, though the bus fills up to standing room quickly (again glad to have a seat … I think the large pile of annoying baggage that I’m carting around helps to create a bit of personal space). A cruisy run through to Kerala, chatting with an Indian driver who worked at Kakabe but whose wife was in Kerala. Almost as soon as the Kerala border is passed, the country changes … vibrant greens coconut in abundance, dense shrub, waterways, neat houses with open second storeys. The Keralans call it “gods own country”, and while I think most people would say that of their homeland, the Keralans seem to have a bit more justification than most.
