India Bike Tour

We have arrived in Kochi, India, a twenty-six hour air transit via Singapore; separated from Seattle by 13.5 hours (13 standard time zones) and 50 degrees F. It feels like we are truly on the other side of the world. Yet Kochi has provided a soft landing. There is meaningful tourist infrastructure here, including a delightful “homestay” accommodation and manageable traffic that seems to mostly drive in a way that, if not strictly Western, seems at least predictable. We have also enjoyed two seafood dinners, an Ayurvedic massage, and attended several venues of the Kochi Art Biennale, all first time experiences in my many visits to the subcontinent.  

Not only have we found the small city of 3.6 million approachable and accommodating, our luggage and bikes arrived ship-shape, making their assembly a pleasure.  

Even the dreaded Indian touts, who will normally harangue and harass visitors to the point of hasty retreat, seem mild-mannered, more curious than threatening. 

I’ve often joked that on my India tour of 2024, I would have received less attention riding a flying broomstick than I received on my technical bike carrying luggage and cruising at 16 mph. Indians have never seen such a machine, nor imagined its existence. Seeing such a bike typically raises more questions than it answers. Many times this fact is visible on the shocked and confused faces of those you pass on the road. So imagine my surprise when on our first test ride yesterday, a tout called out in incredulity, “Are you from the moon?” Obviously joking, the look on his face made us both giggle. It was a relaxed moment of pure joy for me as I glimpsed the absurdity of my own appearance.  Although we take such items for granted in the cycling community, my high-vis helmet and vest, my daylight flashing blinkies front and back, have never been seen in India. Now add my “game face,” my jaw set for war as I charge into the traffic flow, and the absurdity of my presentation became apparent, even to me. 

The highlight of this soft landing in Kochi was today’s experience at the post office. My original plan was to send our bike suitcases and luggage via train freight to our final destination. But the train freight is notoriously cumbersome and requires someone to retrieve the freight on the other end. In fact, I had this all arranged with helpers in position in Bangalore (where Danielle will depart), as well as Mumbai, no small trick. But a dear friend and Indian national in Vancouver, BC pointed out that there are now reliable courier services in India, allowing one’s shipments to be tracked and expedited. This morning I mentioned my plan to our homestay hosts and the proprietor quickly discouraged me. “Much too expensive!”, she insisted. “Use the post office!” Next thing I knew, I was bundled in a tuk-tuk, hurtling toward Fort Kochi. Seventy-five cents later I was dragging my two bags through the front door of the colonial building and presenting myself at the counter. After much gesticulating and repeating of questions and answers on both sides of the exchange, the kind-hearted postal employees agreed on a course of action. The bags would be “wrapped and packaged” to make them acceptable to the Indian post, and they would be shipped economy to the two separate destinations.

In the end, this transaction occupied the full-time attention of three post office employees for more than an hour to wrap, weigh, measure and re-measure, print, and triple check the bill of lading. When the deed was done, the total cost amounted $22 for shipping and $4 for packing materials, and that included FIVE full rolls of tape! Can you imagine? I love this country!!

Packing tape as sculpture!

Overkill: Although the cardboard on the box was fully twice the thickness of a standard box in the US, the entire box was wrapped in thick packing tape for good measure. Bomb proof!