Travel In India

Simple Lives, Simple Pleasures

Sept. 6, 2010, Fort Cochi, India

Dear Live and Invest Overseas Reader,

"Vicki and I have settled for three weeks in Fort Cochi on the Cochin peninsula in India," writes Intrepid Correspondent Paul Terhorst. "This quiet colonial enclave lies across the harbor from a busy city, on India's southwest coast.

"Last week we wandered into a small commercial area of a mostly Hindu neighborhood. We met a mill owner, a goods vendor, and a tea wallah.
After a few minutes, we got a sense of each of them, even though none spoke English.

"The mill owner (see picture) saw us approaching. He asked in broken English a question put to us daily: 'Where are you from?'

"Vicki and I are perpetual travelers, so the where-are-you-from? question is tough for us. In India, we reply with exotic 'Argentina.'

"'Maradona,' the man shouted, throwing up his hands. He was referring to Argentina's football hero of the 1980s, now coach of the Argentine World Cup team.

"'Maradona!' he repeated with a wide smile. 'Argentina!'

"He jumped up and promptly ushered us into his mill. We walked through a succession of tiny rooms, this one grinding rice, that one grinding wheat, the other spices. The mill owner introduced us to the workers in every room, rattling away in local language. The only word I caught was 'Maradona.' I heard it over and over, in every room, whether he was talking to men and women, even children. 'Maradona.'

"Later, while we were having tea, a neighbor explained. 'This man built the mill himself, he started with nothing. Everything you see here reflects this man. He's made a substantial business.'

"Then, and hardly necessary, 'His favorite football team is Argentina.'

"Customers came by and bought packages of flour and spices. Most paid nothing, and I asked why. The mill owner showed me his account book. He was selling on credit. I pointed out that the account book contained all blank pages. 'They'll remember,' the neighbor said. 'They'll pay at the end of the month.'

"On occasion, someone paid in cash. The owner or his son, whoever happened to be around, put the money in his shirt pocket. I figure the factory must have 20 employees with over a dozen product lines. Apparently the owner manages the entire affair without bookkeeping. Even monthly sales and receivables must be a mystery to him.

"He gave us a couple of packages of spice mix, and we were on our way. He looked after us as we walked down the street, guests from Argentina, the land of the great hero, Maradona.

"The goods vendor ran a shop that gives new meaning to the word clutter. Take a look. You really have to see this picture. Huge mounds of goods surrounded him on three sides. The place looked more like a trash pile, or Fibber McGee's closet, than a general store.

"I said to Vicki, 'I wonder if this guy actually sells stuff.'

"A neighbor overheard. 'The man sells everything except milk and diamonds,' he said. 'Just ask for it, and he'll pull it out of the pile. He has everything!'

"While I snapped pictures, the goods vendor rummaged around and came up with coaster-sized metal stencils for making designs. Vicki saw a design she liked and asked how much.

"'Twenty rupees,' he said in broken English (about 40 cents).

"Vicki gave him a 20-rupee note, and the vendor paused, then gave her 5 rupees change. Apparently, he'd had a change of heart. He'd decided Vicki looked too sweet to rip off.

"Our last stop was the tea wallah. My dictionary says a 'wallah' is one who specializes in a trade. The definition fits. Take a look at the picture.

"A passerby gave us the history.

"'This man owns this tea shop. He owns it! He makes the tea, serves customers, and washes up afterward. He does everything himself. He's a professional tea wallah. Tea is his life.'

"The tea wallah beamed with pride. Even without understanding the words, he knew the story.

"We asked for tea without sugar, often hard to come by in India. But this man was a pro. He made it to order. As we looked over the shop, Vicki told me she thought the tea glasses looked a bit dirty. The sensitive tea wallah seemed to pick up on the thought. He served us in paper cups--the first paper cups we've seen at an Indian tea shop.

"Delightful. All three of these men showed so much pride and took so much joy in their work. They were secure in their tiny posts in the economic order. They loved to contribute, to serve. They were attuned to customer needs: giving credit when due, making the right change, preparing tea to order.

"Just thinking about them makes my day."

Kathleen Peddicord Continue Reading:

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Kathleen Peddicord

Kathleen Peddicord is the founder of the Live and Invest Overseas publishing group. With more than 25 years experience covering this beat, Kathleen reports daily on current opportunities for living, retiring, and investing overseas in her free e-letter.

Her book, How To Retire Overseas—Everything You Need To Know To Live Well Abroad For Less, was recently released by Penguin Books.