I arrived early at the bus stand and was told that the bright Barbie-pink minibus parked on the side of the road was the bus to Kumily. With a small amount of disbelief I boarded the bus and asked the conductor if the bus was destined to Kumily. He confirmed that it was and I fetched my luggage from the back of the rickshaw. During the previous day’s journey and arrival into Munnar the scenery of spice, tea and coffee plantations climbed in the ascent. The road leaving Munnar climbed and descended the hillside several times but the view was remarkably different – lush greenery, palm trees, rubber trees and small towns freckled the landscape. I was especially thankful that I do not experience motion sickness as the road was the most windy I have been on in my entire life. The diminished size of the bus did not in any way reduce the number of passengers. The seats were narrower and about a quarter of an inch remained between my kneecap and the seat in front of me. I felt like a sardine with each subsequent passenger next to me claiming her space and pressing me into the side of the bus. On the way to Kumily I noticed several gatherings alongside the road with communist flags waving in the air. I also unpleasantly spotted men resituating their dhoti’s . A dhoti is like a sarong, sported by Indian men with which many of them are either bare-chested or wearing a button-up shirt. In one town there was a small parade and the street was momentarily blocked – it made for good pictures.
I arrived in Kumily in the early evening and was greeted by Bobby, a government certified tour agent who accompanied me to my guest house and then sold me a jeep safari which I enthusiastically announced at my last posting.
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