We breakfasted at the Indian Coffee House. I really should leave it there. I won't. It is indicative of the rather slapdash approach I was taking by this time. I could just leave it there and let it be thought that we had breakfast in the Indian Coffee House. This one. Also pictured here.
I haven't put these pictures on the blog because it would give entirely the wrong impression. If we had had breakfast at that Indian Coffee House I would surely have taken a photograph of my own. Either we didn't have breakfast at that Indian Coffee House or we did and I had become so blasé that I didn't notice.
There were other things to do. The notes say "Int. Phone Call". I don't think I made one. Perhaps it was Claire. The notes go on: "Bank & etc". I suppose I changed a traveler's cheque. I can't recall changing money for ages.
Next: "Books". What I knew about Southern India even before I set off was that the population was significantly better educated than most of India and this was due in large part to the influence of Christianity and Communism down there.
It really is all a very long time ago now and my memories are vague but I seem to remember that there were bookstalls around wherever it was that we were. I had read all the books I had bought in Delhi and was glad of the chance to buy something to read. The bookstalls were quite special in that the books for sale in English included Russian classics and I couldn't resist picking up a couple. Here we see the influence of Russia. My trip was after the fall of the Berlin Wall but before the collapse of the Soviet Union. It was the time of Michail Gorbachev and his Glasnost and Perestroika. The books were absolute musts and at Rs25 each for hardbacks a real snip too.
I had to buy the Gogol. It was important. It makes a connection. Five years beforehand my mate Steve's parents, Pat and Alan got tickets for a production of The Government Inspector at the National Theatre on London's Southbank. The starring role (or at least the other characters believed as much) was played by Rik Mayall. It was (to my mind) a terrific production. Rik Mayall's performance was impressive and the part could have been made for him. In the edition I bought there in Trivandrum there are notes for the actors about the characters and costumes. For Rik Mayall's character Ivan Alexandrovich Khlestakov they say:
"Khlestakov, a young man of about 23, of slight build, a little scatter-brained and, as they say, a bit weak in the top storey. One of those people who are regarded as empty-headed in their offices. Speaks and acts without any forethought. Quite incapable of focusing his attention on any particular idea. His speech is jerky, and words spring from his lips quite unexpectedly. The more ingenuousness and naїveté the actor shows the more effective his performance will be. Fashionably dressed."
I don't think it was Pat and Alan's treat but they had got the tickets at a special price and they were one of the best bargain's ever. So thanks Pat and Alan. It was great.
This is a bit of a digression and I mention it because it may explain the rather slow progress I am making. I felt sure that I had a copy of the programme here somewhere. I searched the bookcase and came upon some other programmes but couldn't turn it up. I still think I have a copy and will have another look. I have picture of the programme in my head. I wanted to scan it and publish it here but I couldn't find it. I did find a map of Kashmir, Srinigar City and Ladakh which I have scanned and added to one of the posts about that part of my time there (or I will have done after this is posted).
So I had a quick dip into the internet and was a bit surprised that it was quite hard to find many references to Rik Mayall in The Government Inspector. It's a sign of the times. Time immemorial used to be limited to 1st July 1189. In 1831-2 the plan of dating legal memory from a fixed time was abandoned and you no longer had to prove unbroken use or possession of a right back to Richard the Lionheart's reign in order to exercise it. Time immemorial was defined as "the time whereof the Memory of Man runneth not to the contrary" and one could thereafter establish the existence of a right if it had been enjoyed for 20 years (subject to certain other conditions). Now if you look on the internet for evidence of some things there seems to be nothing remembered from 25 years ago. Time immemorial will become redefined as the Birth of the Internet. That time was Christmas Day 1990 which, on my trip, had not even happened but was fast approaching.
I am (obviously) a bit of a hoarder. I do have otherwise useless bits of paper and useless objects that I cannot throw away. Their careful conservation has, after all, made it possible for me to write this account. Sometimes I think it is a bit of a worry that I don't like to chuck away stuff. These days I try not to pick anything up that I wouldn't want to keep. So while I was looking on the internet for some reference to Rik Mayall on the web I came across this. I don't think I have much to worry about. The link is to a collection of Theatre programmes archived at the University of Kent at Canterbury. Scroll down and you'll find details from the programme. Jim Broadbent played the Mayor, Anton Antonovich Skvoznik-Dmukhanovsky (in my edition).
I also found the large Bartholomew World Travel Map that I had taken with me which put the distance covered into perspective. It also shocked me to see how close Srinigar is to the present seat of insurgency. Plus ca change...
Neither could I leave the Dostoyevsky behind. This is another digression but I heard a radio program recently in which Clive Anderson the barrister turned chat show host and panel show guest said he had never read "Crime and Punishment". I was really quite surprised. That is a great book, a real page turner. Honestly. It is not about legal systems. Clive, you should try to read it sometime. There's a dream sequence, a nightmare scene which gave me goose pimples it was so good.
Claire and I then headed straight for Kovalam Beach. It doesn't say where we stayed. I bet my Lonely Planet Guide has a marginal note. The notes say "Black Cat/Babu". I think the Black Cat was a restaurant but I don't know what/who/where Babu might have been.
The last note is "Looking for John". John was probably Claire's dad. I don't think we found him. I think Claire might have contacted him and she made some arrangement to meet him in Delhi a few days later.
One of the reasons that I don't like beach holidays is that there is nothing to say about them. My notes for the next day just say "All day lounging on Beach" and "Beach Vid. Pretty Woman + Kerala Grass" and I think that probably says it all,
On Friday 14 January 1990 Claire and I went to Kanyakumari (Cape Comorin). This is the southernmost point of India and is where the Arabian Sea, the Gulf of Mannar and the Indian Ocean meet. I did have a feeling that this was a special place. Standing on the rocks looking out to sea you feel like you are at the edge of the world. I did, anyway. While we were there there, pilgrims came and went after performing ritual ablutions in the sea. It was quite surreal.
Look up Kanyakumari on Wikipedia and you will see two Hindu Myths concerning the origin of the place. Neither possible version seem very likely to me but, hey! What do I know? Either version could've happened.
I didn't take any pictures. Time was not the only thing that was running out. My ration of slide film was all but used up.
Claire and I returned to Kovalam, packed up all our stuff and went out for a last big meal which my notes say was "Kingfish".
I can't really explain why there is not much detail to the few days in India's far South. Perhaps I was distracted by my traveling companion Claire.
The last few slides I ever took in India were taken of the sunset that night. I have put them together as a slide show. I could improve this, but I probably won't get round to it.
