We’re currently waiting in the elaborately-decorated lobby of the Taj Malabar Hotel on the furthermost point of Willingdon Island, one of the three islands – and an artificial one at that – that comprise Cochin. We’re winding down part one of several episodes of waiting that will make up our return journey.
Before I bring you up to date on what we have in front of us, let’s go back 24 hours. We finally got our swim in the so-called infinity pool, so called because of the illusion that the water line of the pool meets the line of the sea.
It was a very hot day, so the cooling swim was welcomed. Tiring from the exertions, we returned to our rooms and changed for lunch. After our (once again average and grossly overpriced) lunch (a ‘Mediterranean’ pizza, which apparently means tinned olives, and that’s pretty much it), we once again adjourned to our room. This one was truly worth spending some time in – a king-sized bed, two bay windows, both looking onto the sea, air conditioning and all the trimmings. We sat around doing nothing of note:
until we decided the time had come to move some blood into our limbs, so we headed to the bar, of course. Still gun-shy of beer I joined Bec in a cocktail – I had an old favourite, a Harvey Wallbanger, and she a Mai Tai. We then concluded the night with the best meal at this hotel, and the cheapest, at the Thai Pavilion. Back in the room I toyed with the idea of watching Armageddon, but sleep took over.
Sleep had me in its clutches for a long time, and we both slept past nine. Instead of rushing to take advantage of the day we both sat around playing Solitaire, like the radical elements we are.
We finally wrested ourselves from the room around 11 and took the ferry to Jew Town, as the name suggests an area of Jewish worship and trade from old times, which is now more a tourist trap.
Tiring of this we took the next ferry to Fort Cochin. We saw a lunch-wallah delivering shitloads of lunch tiffins to workers on the island we were staying on:
At Fort Cochin we walked along the top of the island to find a restaurant highly recommended in the Lonely Planet. We found it after a parching walk, and enjoyed a healthy, hearty vegetarian lunch. With time already against us we rushed back toward the ferry, stopping briefly to look in a bookshop and to snap some photos in a desperate attempt to compensate for our awe-inspiring lameness in not getting to the Fort prior – the architecture is beautiful, there’s plenty of places to stay, eat and drink, and in hindsight we’re kicking ourselves we didn’t stay there. Oh well.
And the requisite funny sign photos – we declined stopping for soft drings:
And if the food is crap, never fear, the Lilly Grace will MAKE you enjoy it.
Anyhow, our combined slowness and delays meant we missed the bloody ferry and with the aid of some extremely confusing advice from the exceptionally unhelpful ferry ticketing staff, I spat the dummy, and stood around in a sulky strop, waiting for the next ferry. I was cranky because our well-laid plan – to have an hour plus to shower, pack and check out – was cut back to 40 minutes. On reflection, it wasn’t really the sinking of the Titanic, but I admit I am prone to slight over-reactions from time to time.
We have since completed the aforementioned plan, with the only contingency being the local tour operator turning up at 3:45pm – to pick us up for an 11:45pm flight! When he drove to the reception area to pick us up, we asked why we were leaving so early; he got on the phone to his boss, told us he was waiting for a call back and has since driven away, leaving us with limited knowledge of what is to happen next. Last we heard he was waiting outside the hotel gates (security is very tight here, being part of the same hotel chain attacked in last year’s terrorist attack), ostensibly still for that call. But we figure he’s going to just wait there until we’re ready – which by my reckoning is another two hours. Bizarre. Oh well, we’re prepared – we have books, water, snacks and the computer, and we’re currently enjoying watching the staff move in a family that arrived with a quantity of luggage that would ground a herd of packhorses. Classic. That’s it for now – if the battery holds out and we’ve got anything to say we might report again from Singapore.
Stage 2
We’re now hanging out in the transit hotel room in Singapore airport. This room may end up costing us almost as much as the Taj Malabar, but right now it seems worth it after a flight that began at midnight last night and got in at 6.30am Singapore time. George snored through most of the flight but I only managed about 20 minutes towards the end, so we were walking zombies by the time we got here.
We crashed out for about three hours or so before a refreshing shower and a decidedly crap breakfast/lunch. We’re now killing a bit of time before we take the free Singapore tour at 3 o’clock. Waiting is never fun, but it’s certainly a lot more bearable with a comfortable bed, private shower and free wi-fi. At some stage before our 11.30pm flight we’ll do the requisite duty free shopping, but right now we’re just resting and feeling thankful that we don’t have to sit out in uncomfortable airport chairs for 18 hours.
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