My First Tryst with Mist

I don’t believe that it was a matter of traditional rivalry between the English and the Scotts, when my English friend discouraged me from planning a vacation to Scotland for the sporadicity of rain in that verdant country was far worse than it was in his country - England, and so were the mosquitoes – in his candid opinion.

To Indians, whose image of Scotland is pretty much borrowed from what they watch on TV or movies, Scotland is a verdant country that would mesmerize you no end with its natural beauty and abundance of water bodies. But on the contrary my English friend recommended that a vacation in Cotswold would be far more enjoyable than one in a mosquito-ridden Scotland.

Had it not been the referendum that went against the separation of Scotland from the UK, vacationing in Scotland would have meant needing a new currency in your wallet. Good that it did not happen, as at least now, you can spend pounds in Scotland just like you would in London.

MANSFIELD MANOR

When I am in London, for sheer logistical convenience, I prefer to stay at the Cumberland, which straddles the Marble Arch tube station. I have been patronizing this hotel I would imagine now for close to 15 years, and have seen it transition from a dilapidated property to a swanky one today, with majority of its patrons being from the Arab World. Hence, the colorful Hijab and black Burka is indeed the commonest attire that you see in the hotel.

In fact, I feel that Oxford Street, which this hotel on one side skirts, the language that is most spoken is Arabic and not English. The commonest site is of obese Arabs awkwardly ambling on the Oxford street with wads of cash in their pockets for their shopaholic wives’, and of the latter many of them do have more than one.

While, due to compelling schedules, I could not go to Cotswold, I did manage to take a reprieve to Surianelli Munnar. We stayed in the guesthouse of Harrisons Malayalam in the midst of a 2000-acre tea estate. Though technically the monsoons were supposed to have retreated, yet it did not prevent the rain gods from smiling, and I did witness mild drizzle off and on, despite the seasonality cycle proclaiming otherwise.

It was also my first tryst with mist. Having trekked at heights far more than the 1600 mts what Surianelli is at, and explored ranges loftier than this part of the Western Ghats, I had never had the opportunity to walk with my head in the clouds and my hearing impaired with the mist condensate trickling into my ear lobes.

Till I explored this part of my country, I too belonged to the tribe that obsessively marveled the scenic beauty of Switzerland, but the Medupatty masonry-lake cratered in the heart of Idukki district, ensconced in the midst of the Western Ghats is so pristine that it belittles all paeons sung in praise of Switzerland.