5.13.07

I made it to Kerala in one piece. After years of flying on decrepid old Northwest planes, it seems they must have come in to some money and actually bought a new plane for the first leg from Minneapolis to Amsterdam. Nice seats, personal video screens, still crappy food though. The flight from Amsterdam to Delhi was quite nice as there were only 100 people on board, so I had a center aisle all to myself, as well as the side aisle across the way that served as my walk in closet. I arrived in Delhi after 18 hours of flying late at night and made my way to the beautiful Taj Mahal airport hotel – I really do mean beautiful, no sarcasm here. They upgraded me to a suite complete with balcony overlooking formal Rajistani style gardens (think Versailles style gardens). Off the next morning early after a great breakfast to the airport to make my way down to Kerala on the south west coast – the rainforest area of India. Not so fast however. Already at 8am, the Delhi airport had gotten itself into a 1.15 hour flight departure delay. Add to the equation that I had a half hour wait for the one and only connecting flight from Bombay to Kerala, and things weren’t looking good. Fortunately after landing in Bombay it turns out they held the Bombay-Kerala flight as there were 7 of us booked on it. Upon landing, they took us down the ladder on the outside of the walkway from the plane down onto the runway and over to the plane headed for Kerala, closed the door right after us and took off.

I  was then picked up at the Cochin airport (the main city you fly into in Kerala) by one of the guys that works for my buddy Sunny, and made the 45 minute trip into the island area of the old colonial city of Fort Cochin. This is the city where the Portuguese first settled in search of spices, soon followed by the Dutch and then of course the Brits. Got to my regular hotel with my regular room – this beautiful botique hotel that gets written up as one of the top places in India. The Malabar House, Cochin. Then its off to the market. The walk takes you past old Portuguese colonial churches, large parks with games of cricket and soccer going on, through the old spice market – the main reason that the town, the colonialists and most other things exist here – on to the bazaar. It’s a great walk through Muslim, Jewish, Hindu and Christian neighborhoods, all living together in happy harmony, not something one sees too often these days. At one point along the way bird crap hits the ground with a splat not a foot away from me. It’s a lucky day. Strange what we think is lucky, but never the less, on with the day.

I make it to the bazaar, a four block main area, with some shops slowly opening up over the years further and further out. I have been coming here twice a year for the last six years, so its always nice to say hi to all of the merchants that I have gotten to know over time. Its super muggy here, which for someone that doesn’t have to live in it year around, I love it. IT makes you feel really alive. The smells of the ocean on the other side of the shops, the air filled with spices from the market, women in any variety of saris and salwar camis (probably mis-spelled, but it’s the flowing pants and armless top that many women wear in lieu of a sari), the village men in rolled up sarongs, vendors selling chai, the ubiquitous Kashmiri merchants that you find in virtually every market, not only in India, but all over Asia, all selling the same mass produced stuff, and when I say the same, I really mean identical. But each 20-something Kashmiri dealer still approaches you in the street as if they have invented the wheel, “My friend, something special,” “My fgriend, looking is free,” “My friend, I have been waiting for you.”  They feed on tourist buses, cruise ships, and are the reason guide books tell you not to buy anything in Asia and India for anything more than half price. Of course you could find everything they have to sell in the airport on the way home. They are actually quite upsetting to the other ¾ of the local Keralaite merchants. Those of you that have been to markets in Asia know exactly what I am talking about. Those of you that haven't dealt with them, think used car salesman in all its stereo-types.  It's all the local Kerala dealers that I am interested in.

Already late in the afternoon, so after saying hi to a few people, I make my way directly to my buddies Sunny and Johnny’s place. They are one of two main merchants here that have a number of shops and warehouses all over the bazaar, but do it in a nice way. No haggling with them. They understand what I do for business and they give me the prices that work for both of us. Its nice and simple. If the price they give me doesn’t work with the margins I need to make, it doesn’t open up a long drawn out haggling process: we move on. Now I am a fan of haggling. I love the scene in Monty Python’s The Life of Brian where the beard salesman exclaims “What?! No haggling?” he asks when Brian wants to buy a beard at regular price. I have haggled for over a year on some vegetable dyed processional candle sticks with someone in this market. But with Sunny, we have around 400 pieces to buy, and four days to do it. But I repeat, no haggling with Sunny. At least thats the unwritten agreement we have.  But fear not, there will be more than enough haggling over the next four days with all of the other vendors in the bazaar to satiate my haggling needs. As always, its great to see the brothers and catch up on things. But now its late in the day and I am starting to drag from almost two days of traveling and jet lag, so its time to head back to the quite serenity of my hotel. Good dinner and bed.

Friday, my first full day of the buying trip. Sunny picks me up in the moring and we head out to make the first pass through all of his randomly placed warehouses in the bazaar. Starting out at the first one, we pick through a few hundred of the granite market weights, through some very cool granite grain grinders, some old glass lanterns for one client who always wants any I can get, and some of the huge single piece of wood grinders from a place called Nagaland in the north west of India. While they are expensive - $2500 retail, they are quite rare and make great conversational coffee tables, especially in clean modern interiors. I will post some photos of them in the stuff on the way section (along with other things) when I get back. Today is really a reconnaissance mission: finding out what is in all of Sunny’s warehouses, what he has that I know I need and what he has that is new and exciting. Not too much buying today except for known things – like the market weights, butter churners and the like. Its around 90+ degrees out and very humid. Virtually raining without the rain. Lunch is at Sunny’s house with his two girls, wife and mom. Its one of my few opportunities to eat in the traditional Kerala style: with your hands. I love it. You get a traditional pile of rice, some fried fish with gravy, some veggies and best of all home made fish pickle. Its definitely an acquired taste (salty pickle in general), but I am crazy for it. Its made by Sunny’s mom, and this is the only place I have ever had it. There are other types: more traditionally mango, ginger, lime, carrot, and mixed pickle, but Sunny’s mom makes great fish pickle. I’m about to break into song about it right now. You keep your left hand away from the plate – not because of complete ostracization because of using your left hand like would happen in some Middle Eastern countries – but mainly because you want one clean hand, because your right hand is about to get very messy. With your right hand you shovel some of the rice into the gravy and in this case, fish jumble it all together, pick it up with your three fingers together acting like the bottom of a spoon and your thumb on top keeping it all together. When it gets up to your mouth, you push it up into your mouth sort like snapping your fingers – except you are snapping all three of your fingers. . .I’ll give you a second to do it. . . .ok, now you have a dirty hand – whatever you do, don’t start wiping it on your napkin. At that rate, you will be going through a pile of htem by the time you get to the end of the meal. Trust me, that’s what happened to me the first time I ate this way. Fortunately, that time, the family that I was eating with wisely gave me paper napkins in contrast to everyone else’s nice white linen ones. Anyway, your put your right elbow on the table with your hand hanging over the plate until you eat again. You drink with your left clean hand, you serve yourself with your, left clean hand, in my case, you wipe your mouth using the napkin in your left hand. It’s a great way to eat.

After lunch its back to the bazaar. There are always great architectural pieces here, and it always breaks my heart. On the one hand, its very difficult to sell these things in Minneapolis for whatever reason, but if my wholesale clients around the country could see them in person, they would certainly buy them. The problem is, they are expensive (huge antique doors that retail from $8000-$40,000), so making an investment in them for someone like me who doesn’t have cases of money sitting around isn’t easy. But even if I could buy a few, I would then have to ship them directly to the shows that I do so my clients can see them, but they would take up half the booth. Same goes for these outstanding columns – no sale in the Twin Cities, but they do well every where else around the country, but how to show them is the problem again. So as usual, I just lust after them and go on my way. I’ll buy only a few select pieces that I can afford to hold on to, or maybe have shipped direct to the High Point show where I have a booth that is big enough to show large architectural pieces. The good news is we are going to be moving at the end of summer to a much bigger place, so I am more willing to buy some bigger pieces to show in the new place. This will be an on going internal debate for the rest of the trip: whether or not to sink some money into some large pieces like these or not. The other thing I am looking for on this trip is some good Indian gods in cast bronzes. Not the cheesy tinny brass kind, but these great heavy castings of happy Indian gods like Ganesh, Vishnu and others.. It looks like there are some nice ones to buy. Its now the end of the day, and off back to the hotel for a cool swim outside my room, then a good meal, a movie on the laptop with headphones (not very exotic, but it’s a good way to wind down), and bed.

Saturday and its time to pull the trigger on a lot of things. I pick up around 130 of the granite market weights, 50 or so of the old lanterns for my friend in Atlanta, some of the brass gods that I was talking about, around 200 of these old textile block prints, some cool tribal pot holders that we sell as side tables, 20 to 25 pair of antique bronze festival ankle bracelets, a great lunch over looking the islands and harbor area in a colonial hotel, back to the bazaar and buying 7 spectacular bronze standing oil lamps, some vegetable dyed bed legs, the great grinders and beds from Naga land (I think I mentioned them before), around 8 of those, some stone wall shrines . .. .anyway, I am well on my way to filling a container. This evening its back to Sunny’s house for a traditional Keralite dinner with his and his brother Johnny’s families. There is really nothing like eating with families in a foreign culture, and to have them be your friends like the Malayl’s are (that’s their last name, most likely incorrectly spelled), is one of the great travel experiences one can have. We talk polotics – Indian and American, business, travel, pro-wrestling (I know nothing about it, but Sunny was wondering if the audiences in the stadiums were real or actors – after thinking about it, it seemed a fair question), food talk – how to make fish pickle. The dinner was a combination of fresh prawn in a dry curry, and fresh fish in a curried gravy, this thick rice that’s sort of puffy with a little brown stripe on a mainly white grain, more pickle and a couple drinks. Finished off with fresh – and in season – mango and ice cream. A great, great evening.

Sunday is a shorter day at the market, around ¼ of the shops are actually closed, but that makes it easy to start tying up loose ends and finishing up the sort of staples of the buying trip. I bought around 40 or 50 of the bronze urulies – the cooking bowls that I have been bringing in for years, another 50 or so of these cool wooden wall shrines, some boat prows, four fantastic jackwood columns (yes I decided to buy some large architectural pieces), and some hanging bronze oil lamps. Over the last two days I have been haggling with a guy over a few pieces- most importantly a great and large bronze oil lamp. It’s a rare piece, but it’s taking a bit to get the price down. Ultimately it will be a four day haggle with the grand finale tomorrow morning on my last day. We are close, so very close. I know what he paid for it, and he knows I know what he paid for it. Not that having that knowledge helps in any way – it just makes for an interesting negotiation. How much do I think he should make, and how much does he want me to see what he is willing to make on any given piece? As I say, he is a nice guy and it’s a great oil lamp. We are at a stage that is already a pretty reasonable price, so I am more than willing to blink first for any number of reasons. If I decide not to ask for too much less, he then knows that I’m not out to drag every last Rupee out of him, which I am not. So we shall see tomorrow.