Some People Are So Poor All They Have Is Money – Part Six
Cinnamon girl
Getting an alcoholic drink is still a bit of a trial in Kerala. To clamp down on the social problems caused by alcohol abuse in the state the government have imposed a prohibitively expensive alcohol licensing system which has effectively driven most bars and roadside drinking establishments out of business. If you really need a drink, you can queue up at a state-owned liquor shop where locals are restricted to one bottle at a time.
Hotels catering for Westerners generally oblige with an alcoholic drink, although it’s advisable not to be too exotic in your demands. They can generally rustle up a beer, wine, whisky, brandy and that’s about it. You also need to be careful in your terminology. It is no good asking whether a hotel has a bar. Most don’t but they are able to serve alcohol so that should be the focus of your enquiry.
Our hotel in Munnar, the Devonshire Green, turned out to be dry. Disaster was averted as we had a couple of bottles of gin, shaken but not stirred, in our suitcases and so we were able to drink in the wonderful scenery of verdant hills and tea plantations from our balcony with a glass in hand.
Fortunately, in neighbouring states Tamil Nadu and Karnataka procuring alcohol is less of a problem and in Bangalore we came across a wonderful bar in Bangalore called the Biere Club. It is the retail outlet for Bangalore’s first craft brewery and for 200 rupees you could have a taster of each of the beers on offer. When we visited there were four marked up on the board, each with a brief description, ABV and price, ranging across the complete beer spectrum from lager, wheat beer, ragi made from an organic grain native to the area, and a stout. After due deliberation we settled for the stout and an excellent drop it was too. I could have stayed there all day.
If you really feel that you need to get your chakras in good shape – you have seven running from the base of your spine to the crown of your head – then a visit to a spice plantation is de rigueur. I have been to a number of them over the years but my ability to recognise spices and herbs in their raw state by sight and smell is as lacking today as it was when I made my first visit. Still it is interesting, although the end objective is to get you to the plantation shop where for a relatively small sum you can buy any oil or liniment, guaranteed to assuage any ailment known to man.
South India is the home of Ayurveda medicine and there is evidence that a form of natural healing was practised there in a formal way from at least 4000 BCE. It makes sense as there was no alternative but to explore and harness the pharmaceutical power of nature then. Nowadays, at least in the West, homeopathy and natural healing is viewed as somewhat cranky and it is true that the efficacy of many of the potions has yet to receive the imprimatur of the medical fraternity, but around 80% of Indians take Ayurveda medicine and there are hospitals around that only provide that form of treatment. Who knows who’s right?
Before I leave India behind, it wold be remiss of me not to comment on the wonderful food. It is slightly bewildering to see some restaurants adopt a form of culinary apartheid with vegetarians accommodated in room and us carnivores in another. Meat is generally mutton or chicken so on the principle that if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em I went vegetarian and was astonished by the wonderful array of tastes and smells that assaulted my senses. You can get them to tone down the spices – a request that elicits a sardonic smile from the waiter – and nothing I ate required me to reach for a fire extinguisher.
A masala dosa – a sort of pancake made from rice and the ubiquitous black gram – set me up nicely at breakfast. I’m already salivating just thinking about it.
