The Wanderer: Munnar - God’s own or godforsaken?

Last weekend my husband and I visited Asia's second best (according to Tripadvisor.com) tourist destination – Munnar in Kerala.

We drove from Bangalore, a nearly 500 km journey, of which only the last 80 km or so was hilly terrain. We were enamored by the vistas – tea plantations, wild shrubbery, flowering trees, once thick forest vegetation now reduced to wispy browns due to the weather and streams and rivulets every few km. After much Ooohing, Aaaahing, photo clicking and deep breathing we arrived at Munnar.

Our itinerary for the next 3 days involved everything from trekking, tea tasting, boating, eating king size British meals (fresh butter on toast is what I am mainly talking about), shopping and posing for photographs during break time. After an eventful check-in at our heritage hotel (see previous post), we retired to our room – too tired for dinner. I dreamt of Enid Blyton inspired vegetarian meals.

Next morning I was greeted with idlis, sambhar and chutney. Maida bread, melted butter and Kissan Jam (all of which seemed like they had been scavenged) were other items available. Every Enid B dream is followed by the Munshi Premchand reality. I gobbled down the idli-sambhar-chutney, imagining it to be some exotic Indian version of the Enid B "hearty" breakfast.

First stop – Tea Museum. Munnar has two tea museums. The highly recommended one is the Tata Tea Museum at Nallathanni Estate. Contrary to public opinion we discovered that it did not have a tea tasting area nor allowed any photography. So we went to the Kannan Devan Hill Plantations Tea Museum in Munnar town. A visit to the model factory, a documentary film about the place, tea-tasting (30 varieties of tea) and then shopping on the premises completed the tour. Though photography was prohibited inside the factory, we enjoyed the visit.

We asked officials at the museum to suggest a few tea plantations we could visit to understand how tea is grown. Their answer: Plantation visits are banned because visitors litter about. Surprised? Me too. Friends told us not to miss the plantation visit in Munnar as this is a unique experience. Is this how you "miss" it?

Next stop - Indo-Swiss farm in Mattupetty. We were told "No visitors allowed," even as two cars loaded with visitors (of the human variety) zipped past the gates. Do we need prior permits? Pay fees? Bribe? – all questions were resolutely answered by finger pointing to the "No visitors allowed" sign. (Private security agencies can look at this talent pool for future recruitment). How different can a buffalo look? Hybrid or otherwise? Tchah!!, I said to myself and moved on.

Mattupetty Dam nearby officially closes at 5:30 p.m. As we approached the gates at 2:30 pm, the guard said "Boating is full for the day" and turns us away. About 10 tourist buses and several other vans loaded with passengers passed us into the parking lot. "Try explaining that to them" – I was tempted to tell the guard. But by this time I was fed up.

We tried to salvage the trip by inquiring about the trek inside Eravikulam National Park that claims to offer glimpses of the Nilgiri Tahr. One can also climb Anaimudi, South India's highest peak, located inside the national park. Needless to say, the trek was cancelled because of a "herd attack." I am tempted to think it was our lot that turned itself upon the rest of the brethren. (Some thing on the lines of "All Mallus are lazy" and "All Tamilians are black" being enough to start a fist fight). As for the Anaimudi trek, it was apparently cancelled 12 years ago. Wonder how the some junta have climbed it as recently as last month?

Though I increasingly felt god had long forsaken this place, there are still some ways in which you can salvage this trip.

Make your trip Jhakaas by:

1. Keeping expectations low: Once you have seen the first plantation 35 km from Munnar, your trip is effectively over. What you do in Munnar should not be confused with "sightseeing".
2. Carrying your own food: A hamper containing a loaf of bread, jam, cheese slices and juice will taste better in Munnar than it ever did back home. If you are vegetarian, your choices are reduced to the claustrophobic Saravana Bhavan and a few other places whose names I can't recall.
3. Experimenting with photography: It's a wonder how so much of one color - green - can inspire at least 10 shots of the same scene.
4. Noticing the other color in the hill station: RED. The color of passion, sweat, blood and violence can mean laziness only in Munnar. The workers may be Tamil, but the govt is clearly commie.
5. Going on a package tour: Self driving and exploration is for the poor, especially if you drive a humble Wagon-R. Fix yourself up with a tour operator. He most probably has the necessary skills to get you into all the places mentioned above. If not, you can always visit the next town/city as part of the package.

How not to lose your way:

Stay away from Google Maps. You will not spot Jattihalli at 80 kmph, leave alone SH 86. Pick up a state map from the book store and circle all the towns marked on the NH. Ask directions sequentially if in Karnataka, such as "How to go to Hosur." (Anything further will confuse). Once you enter Tamil Nadu, ask them for "How to go to Munnar". Follow those instructions to the T. 

The Wanderer: High Range Club, Munnar

All that glitters is not gold. All that is old is not heritage. Nestled on a hill, the 101-year-old High Range Club, Munnar has a proud legacy of many firsts to its credit. However, this club is far from heritage. Here are four reasons why you should avoid it and some tips to watch out for any tourist dwellings that may masquerade as heritage:

1. Back to basics:

The Indian Hotels Association classifies a heritage property as dating back to 1935 or earlier with a minimum of 10 rooms with basic amenities. How basic is basic? The day hubby and I arrived, the phone line in our room not working. The reason: "Lightning struck last night and since then all lines are down." So we called the reception from our cell phones. I thought in the good ole' days one used a bell to call their domestic help. I didn't find any buzzers in our room.

Later that evening, for about 2 hours, the telephone operators kept testing our lines (imagine trring trring trring, every 2 minutes) and eventually replaced the handset. We had advance booked the room a month before and had driven down 500 kms earlier that day. Given our mental health, we did not dare to check if the phone was working. Did I mention we did not have a fan in the room?

2. Décor – rating:

"Exquisitely designed and decorated; meticulously preserved" is how a journal describes heritage properties should be. I am not sure that includes tackily fixed-erstwhile-broken down furniture. Single cots that didn't align at the centre, drawers and windows that needed a Herculean effort to open and close and sub zero size tables– all this and much more welcomed us. Guess the British took the furniture back with them.

3. Service (the lack of it):

The waiter who attended to us bonded so well with us that he started sniggering at the property manager's capabilities (amnesia for starters), the bad food served here (he also suggested that we should eat outside) and why no one comes to stay here (poor service). Needless to say, his own sense of duty was found wanting by us several times. Our room was not stocked with fresh towels, mosquito mat and machine (a common fixture in hill stations) and drinking water when we checked in. The room was not serviced the next day. The waiter's excuse: You did not give me the room key. How did the burra sahibs deal with such statements?

4. Authenticity missing:

Heritage properties usually welcome guests graciously, give them a tour of the property and their room in particular, help them settle and then entertain them with the best of local cuisine, arts and crafts. All of that was missing here. The common rooms were left open to us without anyone taking the trouble to give us an introduction. Food was mediocre and no hard drinks are allowed on the premises (A teetotaler Englishman? Beats me). No activities were arranged by the club such as tea tasting sessions, tea plantation visits, local folk arts, and sale of local crafts. Worse still, the manager and the reception were not of much help with local sightseeing either.

My mother once said "any place that is frightfully old is inhospitable." In this case I would agree with her. Unless you can be satisfied with Analog TV watching, mosquito swatting and mountain gazing, don't bother with this place.

PS: The club has a 9-hole golf course, squash and tennis courts and a billiards table- all of which you can access for a steep fee. We didn't check any of this out. Perhaps there are more tales there.