Thieves

Friday the thirteenth - not a good day. Our hostess here at La California has lost all her reservation records.

Over breakfast this morning, she gave us the bad news.

Yesterday afternoon her Apple laptop was stolen, stolen by the other guests that we'd shared breakfast with. This couple, Patrick and Sylvie, had come for one night, at little notice, referred from somewhere else, and it was easy for them to move about because she had her car. Our hostess has never had anything stolen in ten years of B&Bing, but had enough doubts about this couple to get cash from them. They came with a large metallic pale-green car, the size of a small caravette, with a couple of bikes on the back, and I seem to remember at breakfast that they said something about cycling, though they didn't look as muscular or tanned as some cyclists. They spoke some English, she more than he, and said they worked in Montreal but lived in its suburbs, and that he worked in aircraft simulation, whatever that is. We chatted over breakfast, talked about blonde jokes, and she, an apparent redhead, with a mane thick enough to be a wig, said that she used to be blonde. We didn't find out much more about them but learned a lot about Montreal from our hostess who chatted lots. Later they came into our room to say goodbye - surprisingly friendly since we'd hardly talked.

Our hostess tells us that they left without returning one of her keys, came back in the afternoon, let themselves in and took the laptop. That they didn't take more was because she had a friend staying who was in the shower for fifteen minutes and they couldn't have told where in the house she was and when she would appear and catch them. If caught, they could have said that they were just returning the key. However, I think, that only one of them came in the house, that the other remained on the other side of the road, watching and ready to warn of the hostess returning. I suspect that they returned on their bikes, that one bike would have been parked right outside the house, ready for a hasty exit, without leaving number plate evidence, without making a noise on the gravel. The one who came in would have had a back pack, stuffed the Apple in the bag, and cycled off on the bike very quickly to wherever the other was waiting in the car. That's what someone did at work about a year ago.

So our hostess has lost her computer, a ten year old one with a bug on it, and with all her B&B reservations, and no back up. Now she doesn't know who's coming when, though fortunately she doesn't keep peoples' credit card numbers on there, thank goodness. If you booked here, then contact her to help her record her reservations again.

We have a sadder, wiser hostess.

Husband's new toy

Husband likes to go to MK to have lunch with working and retired colleagues, but then he has a pint and can't drive home, so he goes on the bus instead, but the bus station is miles from the pub. Once he cycled up there, but it's a forty mile round trip and he's exhausted by the time he gets back.

So
he's got a new bicycle, a folding bicycle. And is he pleased!

Kumarakom continued

Jan 8th
Wife was recovered today but we took things easy to enjoy the facilities here together. And up early enough to photograph the sunrise from our room across the lagoon.

In the late afternoon, we ventured outside on the hotel bikes - this was okay while we were on the by-roads but when we reached a busier road, with buses, taxis, cars, transporting children home from school, which we turned off at the first opportunity. The sight of an (adult) woman on a bicycle seemed unusual to the locals, although I have seen women riding motor-scooters.

In the evening we enjoyed Indian musicians and classical dancers while sitting on the amphitheatre outside the restaurant after dinner. Two girl dancers with a singer, flautist and drummer for some traditional dances, followed by music, with a second type of drummer (instrument looked like a large spherical jar) replacing the singer. (See file later on family site). It was all very lively and more accessible to my ears than my previous, limited hearing of Indian music. This was southern (Karnatic?) tradition, I believe there is a distinct northern tradition (according to the young man serving us whisky and mocktails in the bar).

Liz writes
The Raddison hotel is like another world, a compound quite cut off from the rest of India. We borrowed a couple of bikes so husband and I went out for a cycle ride, to see what it was like outside. Inside was quiet, with perhaps few guests strolling round, but more often you saw security guards, especially near the lake where the houseboat arrived. And there were gardeners there in the day time, with little green hats like sunshades on their heads while they worked in the sun. The bathroom in our cottage had a bath and two showers, one in an outdoor courtyard and even if the electricity went off there was a generator so that the hotel still carried on with light, sound, or whatever electrical use was required. One night there was a presentation of European classical music (saxophone and cello?) followed by India classical dance, then by Indian classical music, but for a few moments when the electricity cut, before the generator came in, the sound did not echo round the amphitheatre (yes, there's a small amphitheatre in there too!)

As you can imagine, outside the compound, there was no evidence of electricity, running water, plumbed sewage and I realised that women riding bicycles was a rare sight too. One girl of around 15 on her way home from school hid her eyes in shock when she saw me riding along.

This was the best hotel that we stayed in whilst in India, not just because of the amenities, but also because the staff were so helpful especially when I was ill and dehydrated, well trained, not just courteous but friendly as if they were really interested in you. In the evening we mentioned to the barman that we'd been for a ride, and he enquired if I had gone too, side saddle behind my husband. He gasped in surprise when I explained that no, I had ridden a bike too, and said that in India, the girls were homely, so wouldn't ride bikes. This was the barman who created a mocktail for me and asked us to name it - we chose Maiden's Blush because of its pink colours - apple, mango, pomegranate and something else. And then the same barman went on to discuss music with us trying to find what CD to put on would best please us, and in the end, serenading us himself with classical guitar music.